O Father, dear, I have sent for you,
For now my end is near.
In Alaska’s snow-clad plains I’ve lived
This five-and-twenty year.

And in this lonely trapper’s hut,
I have often dreamt of home,
Of that thatched cot in Carn Town
In far off Inishowen.

There’s the dear-loved white-washed chapel,
I know that it’s there still,
So peaceful in the valley
Below the Barrack Hill.

Whist, Father! that’s the Angelus,
My God, I know it well;
For in this snowy wilderness
I’ve often heard that bell.

Last night I dreamt I was at home,
In Carn Town far away;
But the white wastes of Alaska were
Round me at the break of day.

But, Father, now I’m dying
And I must see that old home,
My soul will take a lonely flight
To far off Inishowen.

That’s the call of the wild coyote
Out there upon the plain,
And the hungry wolves are on the prowl;
I hear their growls again.

The huskies are getting restless,
They know that death is near.
Good-bye, Father, I’m on my way
To that village far from here.

Bury me here in Alaska
For I have no one of my own
To take my remains to Carn Town
In far off Inishowen.

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