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In the merry month of June, From my home I started, |
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Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted, |
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Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin' mother, |
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Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother, |
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Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born, |
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I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin, |
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In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs, |
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And frightened all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin. |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary, |
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Started by daylight, Next mornin' light and airy, |
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Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin', |
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That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking. |
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To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while, |
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At my curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'. |
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They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required, |
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Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin. |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the |
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way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da! |
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In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity, |
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To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city. |
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Then I took a stroll, All among the quality, |
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My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality; |
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Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind; |
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No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin'. |
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Enquirin' for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue, |
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Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin. |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the |
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way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da! |
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From there I got away, My spirits never failin' |
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Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin'; |
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Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he, |
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When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy, |
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Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs, |
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Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin', |
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When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead, |
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Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin. |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the |
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way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da! |
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The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed, |
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Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it; |
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Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin', |
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Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin', |
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"Hurrah my soul," sez I, My shillelagh I let fly; |
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Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in, |
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Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray. |
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We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin. |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the |
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way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da! |
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One, two, three, four, five |
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Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road and all the |
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way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da! |
