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 me father dear, Kissed me darling 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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Cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
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In a brand new pair of brogues, go rattling o'er the bogs,
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Frightening all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin.
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One, two, three, four, five
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In Mullingar last night, I rested limbs so weary,
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Started by daylight, Next morning bright and early,
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Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinking,
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That's the Paddy's cure, When he's on the drinking.
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See the lassies smile, Laughing all the while,
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At me darling style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubbling.
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Asked me was I 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 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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Decided to take 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, When I looked behind;
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No bundle could I find, Upon me stick a wobbling.
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Enquiring for a rogue, They said me 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 way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da!
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From there I got away, Me spirits never failing
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Landed on the quay just as the ship was sailing;
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Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
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then I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
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Down among the pigs played some funny rigs,
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Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubbling,
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When off to Holyhead, 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 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 meself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
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Blood began to boil, Temper I was losing,
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Poor old Erin's isle They began abusing,
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"Hurrah my soul," sez I, Let the shillelagh fly;
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Some Galway boys were nigh, Saw I was a hobbling,
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With a loud hurray, They joined me in the fray.
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Soon we cleared the way, O'er 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 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 way to Dublin, whack-fol-la-de-da!
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The Rocky Road To Dublin (Traditional)
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| Dropkick Murphys |
