The palm trees wave on high all along the fertile shore

Adieu, the Hills of Kerry, I never will see no more

Oh, why did I leave my home, oh why did I cross the sea?

And leave the small birds singing around you sweet Tralee



The noble and the brave have departed from our shore

They´ve gone off to a foreign land where the wild canyons roar

No more they´ll see the shamrock, the plant so dear to me

Or hear the small birds singing around my sweet Tralee



No more the sun will shine on that blessed harvest morn

Or hear our reaper singing in a golden field of corn

There´s a band for every woe and a cure for every pain

But the happyness of my darling girl I never will see again