My name is John OReilly And my father worked the fields In the hills of old Killarney Where I helped him turn the wheels My arms grew hard as iron for a boy of seventeen And I used my fists for gamblin in those wet Killarney streets Well the ship left for America and I took my pack aboard Said goodbye to my dear Ireland Said a prayer to my dear Lord Well I fought those sorry guineas In the Kitchen they called Hell And I fought them for their dollars And those guineas paid me well [:: CHORUS ::] Fare thee well fair Dover Fare thee well, your seasons turn My pockets will be jinglin on the day of my return The day of my return Well I fought in New York City and I fought the Jersey shores My gut stayed full of whiskey And my bed stayed full of whores They called my right a cannon-ball My left they called the same And I left them all a-lyin half in blood and half in shame Well I met a man on 32 and he stuck out his hand And he offered me a thousand if Id fall before his man I said it could be done but only for another two And he smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe [:: CHORUS ::] Fare thee well fair Dover Fare thee well, your seasons turn My pockets will be jinglin on the day of my return The day of my return Well they rang the bell two times Before I let him have my nose And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed Then I let loose a right that they still talk about to-day For that guinea didnt know that I had bet the other way Well they covered every dock And every port there on the coast Looking for the double-crosser who had turned into a ghost But I was on a train my friend that rode the other way And Ill sail from California back to Dublin one fine day CHORUS (TWICE) Fare thee well fair Dover Fare thee well, your seasons turn My pockets will be jinglin on the day of my return The day of my return
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 19:03:53 +0000
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