A stor mo chroi when you're far away 
From the home you will soon be leaving

My name is Mary Clare Malloy, I was born in County Cork
At 18 years of age I sailed for the shores of old New York
With 700 picture brides torn tween hope and fear
At last we spied Manhattan and the famous Isle of Tears

My first taste of the New World turned to ashes very fast
The ones who entered freely were from first and second class
We, steerage folk remained on board as if we were exiles
The captain turned the ship around and sailed to Ellis Isle

We disembarked and stood in line with chalk marks on our coats
X for mental illness, if E back on the boat
They asked us what our breeding was, could we read or write?
The sound of women weeping set the dormitories at night

My best friend was deported back to a poor Killea home
Another sent to Swinburne Isle died of cholera alone
The rest of us were shipped to trains bound for Midwest states
To wild and stormy prairie lands and our prospective mates

He's American primitive man
In an American primitive land
Irish eyes and calloused hands
American primitive man