Rocky Road To Dublin

In the merry month of June, from me home I started,

left the girls of Tuam, nearly broken hearted,

saluted father dear, kissed me darlin' mother,

drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother.

then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,

I cut the stoat like corn to banish ghosts and goblins,

in a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled over the bogs,

frightened all the dogs, on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,

and all the way to Dublin, Whack-fol-al-de-da!

In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,

started by daylight, Me spirits bright and early,

took a drop of the pure, to keep me heart from sinking,

that's the Paddys cure, when Paddys on for drinking

to see the lassies smile, laughing all the while

at me curious style, would set your heart a bubblin'

ask if I was hired, if wage that I required,

till I nearly tired of the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,

and all the way to Dublin, Whack-fol-al-de-da!

In Dublin next arrived, and thought it such a pity

to be so soon deprived, a view of that fine city,

well then I took a stroll, all amongst the quality,

me bundle it was stole, in that neat locality,

something crossed me mind, then I looked behind,

no bundle I could find, upon me stick a wobblin.

Enquiring for the rogue, said me Connaught brogue,

wasn't much in vogue, on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,

and all the way to Dublin, Whack-fol-al-de-da!

From there I got away, me spirits never failing,

landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing,

captain at me roared, said no room had he,

So then I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy,

and down amongst the pigs, sang some hearty reels,

we danced some hearty jigs, the water round us bubblin',

then off to Hollyhead, I wished myself was dead,

or far off instead on the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,

and all the way to Dublin, Whack-fol-al-de-da!

The boys of Liverpool when we safely landed,

called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it,

blood began to boil, me temper I was losing,

poor old Erin's isle, they began abusing,

horah joroh say I, left me Shelelagh fly,

some Galway boys were by and saw I was a hobblin',

with a loud hurray,they joined in the afray,

quickly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin, 1,2,3,4,5

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road,

and all the way to Dublin, Whack-fol-al-de-da!

(c) Folkaholics (traditional)