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In the merry month of June from me home I started,
Kissed the girls of Tuam, left them broken hearted;
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,
Drank a pint of beer me tears and grief to smother.
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,
And cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghosts and goblins;
A brand new pair of brogues rattled o'er the bogs,
Frightened 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-fol-lol de rye.. ah !
In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight next morning bright and early;
Took a drop of the pure to stop me heart from sinking,
That's an Irishman's cure whene'er he's on to drinking.
You need a lassie's smile, laughing all the while,
At your curious style to set your heart a bubblin';
Asked if I was hired, wages I required,
Till I was almost tired 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-fol-lol de rye.. ah !
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived a view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll off among the quality,
Me bundle it was stole in a neat locality;
Something crossed me mind when I looked behind;
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'.
Asking for the rogue, they said my Connacht 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-fol-lol de rye.. ah !
From there I got away, me spirits never failin',
Landed on the quay just as the ship was sailin';
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he,
Then I jumped aboard, a cabin found for me,
Down among the pigs, played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water 'round me bubblin',
Off to Holyhead wished meself was dead,
Or better off 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-fol-lol de rye.. ah !
Oh 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 losin',
Poor Erin's isle they began abusin',
"Hurrah me soul," sez I, shillelagh let it fly;
Some Galway boys were by and saw I was a-hobblin',
With a loud hurray, joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way 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-fol-lol de rye.. ah !
