In the merry month of June from me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam nearly 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;
A brand new pair of brogues rattlin' 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-fo-lol-le-rah !
In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight me spirits blithe and airy,
Took a drop of pure to keep me heart from sinking,
That's the Paddy's cure whenever he's on for drinking.
See the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'
Asked if I was hired, wages I required, til
I was nearly 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-fo-lol-le-rah !
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity
To be so soon deprived, a view of that fine city.
Well then I took a stroll down among the quality,
Me bundle it was stowed, in a neat locality.
Something crossed me mind, then I looked behind,
No bundle could I find, upon me stick a wobblin'
Inquiring for the rogue, 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-fo-lol-le-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 hearty rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling,
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,
Or better farm 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-fo-lol-le-rah !
The boys 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, Shillelagh I let fly.
Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,
With a loud "hurray !" joinin' 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-fo-lol-le-rah !