A long time ago in the County Mayo my story it first began Before this country was finally cured by the first Economical Plan A brave young man had to leave his home and sail far over the sea But he got well paid in the job and he stayed on the shores of Amerikay.
He got on very well but he sent nothing homer and his mother began to think That maybe he'd run away with a blond or was spending his money on drink. She wrote him a letter enquiring for news and she sent it straight away And upon the cover she carefully wrote "To My Son in Amerikay".
Well the postman collected the letter she wrote and he drove in his van to Cork Where he placed it upon a liner in Cobh that landed in New York. And there with the whiskey and everything else the mailbags lay on the Quay And among the rest was a letter addressed to My Son in Amerikay.
O American postmen I needn't relate they are rather like me and you And when at last to the letter they came they didn't know what to do. They looked up all the official lists but these had nothing to say. There was no directory could help them to find a Son in Amerikay.
It lay around the office for years and years and it gave all the boys a laugh Until at length it found some use in training of the staff. To every new Postman who came on the job it was shown as Example "A" O' insufficiently addressed to My Son in Amerikay.
Well the son he got older and wiser too and at last to himself he said O how are things going with me mother at home or is she alive or dead He walked around the block to the GPO where he stood with his cap in his hand By any chance there's be a letter for me from me mother in Ireland?
O yes, kind sir, and here it is, we've been waiting for you to call. We knew someone someday would come from Cork or old Donegal. From the two hundred million that's living now in the whole of the USA For a mother in Ireland at last we have found a Son in Amerikay.