Rocky Road To Dublin/Kid On The Mountain - Gaelic Storm

In the merry month of May now from me home I started,

Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,

Saluted father dear, kissed me darlin' mother!

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

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

Cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghosts and goblins!

Bought a pair of brogues rattling o’er the bogs

And fright’ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin!

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary

Started by daylight next morning bright and early

Took a drop of the pure to keep me heart from sinking;

That’s a Paddy’s cure whenever he’s on drinking

See the lassies smile, laughing all the while

At me darlin' style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'

Asked me was I hired, wages I required

Till I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin,

One two three four five,

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road

And all the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah!

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it’d be a pity

To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.

So then I took a stroll, all among the quality;

Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.

Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,

No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'

Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue

Wasn’t much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin,

One two three four five,

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road

And all the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah!

From there I got away, me spirits never failing,

Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.

The captain at me roared, said that no room had he;

When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.

Down among the pigs, played some funny rigs,

Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubblin';

When off Holyhead wished meself was dead,

Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin,

One two three four five,

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road

And all the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah!

The boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,

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

Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;

Poor old Erin’s Isle they began abusing.

«Hurrah me soul!"says I, shillelagh I let fly.

Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobblin',

With a loud «hurray!"joined in the affray.

We quickly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin,

One two three four five,

Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road

And all the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah!