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 canons 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 balm for every woe and a cure for every pain
But the happyness of my darling girl I never will see again