Have you ever eat colcannon that’s made by spuds and cream
With greens and scallions blended like a picture in a dream?
Did you ever scoop the creamy top to make the little cake,
With the flavourly flavour butter that your mother use to make?

Yes she did, so did he, so did you and so did I.
The more I think about it, it’s the nearer I’m to cry.
And weren’t those the happy days when trouble I knew not,
When mother made colcannon in the little skillet pot?

Have you ever take potato cake in a bag to the school,
Tucked underneath your arm with your book and plate and rule?
And when teacher wasn’t looking a great big bite you’d take,
Of the floury, mealy, juicy, the sweet potato cake.

Yes she did, so did he, so did you and so did I.
The more I think about it, it’s the nearer I’m to cry.
And weren’t those the happy days when mother use to make,
The floury, mealy, juicy, the nice potato cake.

Have you ever been out courting when the evening sun went down,
And the moon just started peeping from behind the Hill of Down.
You wander down the borheen where the leprechaun used sing,
And you whispered soft and low to your little sweet cailín.

Yes she did, so did he, so did you and so did I.
The more I think about it, it’s the nearer I’m to cry.
And weren’t those the happy days when we did have our fling,
Back in dear old Ireland where love is lord and king.