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		<title>My son in Amerikay - История изменений</title>
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		<updated>2026-04-26T08:22:21Z</updated>
		<subtitle>История изменений этой страницы в вики</subtitle>
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		<id>https://folk.poesie.ru/wiki/index.php?title=My_son_in_Amerikay&amp;diff=5995&amp;oldid=prev</id>
		<title>Velinte в 13:03, 21 апреля 2009</title>
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				<updated>2009-04-21T13:03:29Z</updated>
		
		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;Новая страница&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;lt;lyrics&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
A long time ago in the county Mayo, this story it first began&lt;br /&gt;
Before emigration was finally cured by the First Economical Plan&lt;br /&gt;
A brave young man had to leave his home and sail all over the sea&lt;br /&gt;
But he got well paid in the building trade at the shores of Americay&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He got on very well but he sent nothing home and his mother began to think&lt;br /&gt;
That may be he'd run away with a blonde or spent all his money on drink!&lt;br /&gt;
She wrote him a letter and folded it up and sent it straight away&lt;br /&gt;
And on the cover she carefully wrote &amp;quot;To me son in Americay!&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the postman collected this letter she wrote and he drove in his van to Cork&lt;br /&gt;
And he placed it on board on the ship at Cobh that landed it in New York&lt;br /&gt;
Sure there was the whiskey and everything else - the mailbags lay on the quay&lt;br /&gt;
And among the rest was this letter addressed &amp;quot;To my son in Americay&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And American postmen, I needn't relate, they are rather like me and you&lt;br /&gt;
And when at last to this letter they came, sure they didn't know what to do&lt;br /&gt;
Well they looked up all the official lists, they had nothing to say&lt;br /&gt;
There was no directory could help them to find her son in Americay!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So it laid at the office for years and years and it made all the boys a laugh&lt;br /&gt;
Until one day it found some use - in the training of the staff&lt;br /&gt;
And to every new postman that came on the job it was shown as Example Three&lt;br /&gt;
That was &amp;quot;Insufficiently addressed to 'Me Son in Americay'&amp;quot;!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the son he got older and wiser too and one day to himself he said&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;How are things going with me mother at home, is she alive or dead?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
He walked 'round the blocks to the GPO, there he stood with his cap in his hand&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Well be any chance would there be a letter for me from me Mother in Ireland?&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Oh Yes! Kind sir - and here it is - we've been waiting for you for years!&lt;br /&gt;
We knew that someday someone would come from Cork or even Donegal&lt;br /&gt;
For two hundred million that are living now in the whole of the USA&lt;br /&gt;
For mother in Ireland that carefully wrote to the 'Son in Americay'&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;/lyrics&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
{{Исполняется|Сlann Lir (альбом)|Clann Lir}}&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Velinte</name></author>	</entry>

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