‘twas not long ago
That this man first stepped on earth
His name was Jim McCann
And with his voice he did enchant

In the Emerald Isle one thing was wished
To us all, can you this grant?
The four green fields are more than grateful
To have heard McCann’s chant

Let me tell you about his voice
For it was a thing of beauty
It was oh so pristine
When I hear it, I rejoice

In his youth he did wander
Erin’s Isle every last corner
And his song far resonated
This, of course, it was no wonder

And then a curse befell him
He began to lose his voice
He could barely even talk
What had he done, to deserve it?

And though your voice, ‘twas tired
And though your voice, ‘twas hoarse
With your guitar you carried on
Showing us your every song

Though your voice again, it won’t be heard
It won’t be heard, alas it shan’t
The four green fields are more than grateful
To have heard McCann’s chant

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