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Oh, I am a merry ploughboy and I plough the fields all day |
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Till a sudden thought came to my head, that I should roam away |
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For I'm sick and tired of slavery since the day that I was born |
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And I'm off to join the IRA and I'm off tomorrow morn |
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And we're all off to Dublin in the green, in the green |
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Where the helmets glisten in the sun |
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Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash |
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To the rattle of a Thompson gun |
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I'll leave aside me pick and spade, I'll leave aside me plough |
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I'll leave aside me horse and yoke, I no longer need them now |
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I'll leave aside me Mary, she's the girl that I adore |
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And I wonder if she'll think of me when she'll hear the rifles roar |
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And we're all off to Dublin in the green, in the green |
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Where the helmets glisten in the sun |
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Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash |
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To the rattle of a Thompson gun |
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And when the war is over and dear old Ireland is free |
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I'll take her to the church to wed and a rebel's wife she'll be |
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Well, some men fight for silver and some men fight for gold |
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But the IRA are fighting for the land that the Freestaters stole |
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And we're all off to Dublin in the green, in the green |
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Where the helmets glisten in the sun |
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Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash |
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To the rattle of a Thompson gun |
