Ah, from sweet Dungannon to Ballyshannon
And from Cullyhanna to Old Arboe
I’ve roved and rambled, caroused and gambled
Where songs did thunder and whiskey flow.
It’s light and airy I’ve tramped through Derry
And to Portaferry in County Down,
But with all my raking and undertaking
My heart was aching for Sweet Omagh Town.

When life grew weary, aye, and I grew dreary
I set sail for England from Derry Quay.
And when I landed, sure ‘twas fate commanded
That I to London should make my way.
Where many a gay night, from dark to daylight
I spent with people of high renown
But with all their splendour, and heaps to spend sure
My heart was empty for Sweet Omagh town.

Then further going, my wild oats sowing
To New York city I crossed the say’
Where a congregation of rich relations
Stood on the harbour to welcome me
In grand apparell like Dukes or Earls
They tried to raise me with sword and crown
But with all their glamour and uproarious manner
My lips would stammer of Sweet Omagh town.

And when life is over and I shall hover
Above the gates where Saint Peter stands
And he shall call me for to install me
Among the saints in that golden land
And I shall answer I’m sure ‘tis grand, sir,
For to play the harp and to wear the crown
But I, being humble, sure I’ll never grumble
If Heaven’s as charming as Sweet Omagh Town.