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

Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,

Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,

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 black thorn 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.

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 Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,

Started by daylight next morning blithe and early,

Took a drop of pure to keep me heartfrom sinking;

Thats a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking.

See the lassies smile, laughing all the while

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

Asked me was I hired, wages I required, 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 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 falling,

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 hearty rigs,

Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;

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 !

 

Well the bouys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,

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, me Shillelagh I let fly.

Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,

With a load "hurray !" joined in the affray.

We quitely 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 fol all the Ra !

 

 

Oh poor old Dicey Reilly, she has taken to the sup

And poor old Dicey Reilly, she will never give it up

It's off each morning to the pop that she goes in for another little drop

But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly

 

She will walk along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air

And then its down by Summerhill, and as the people stare

She'll say, "It's nearly half passed one

Time I went in for another little one

But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly

 

Now at two, pubs close and out she goes as happy as a lark

She'll find a bench to sleep it off at St. Patrick's Park

She'll wake at five feeling in the pink

And say, "Tis time for another drink

But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly

 

Now she'll travel far to a dockside bar to have another round

And after one or two or three she doesn't feel quite so sound

After four she's a bit unstable

After five underneath the table

But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly

 

Oh they carry her home at twelve o'clock as they do every night

Bring her inside, put her on the bed and then turn out the light

Next morning she'll get out of bed

And look for a cure for her head

But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly

 

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