| lyric | You son's of Dan O'Conell's guard,
Give ear unto my doleful ditty,
’Tis all about a sailor lad
Whose birthplace was in Dublin City.
My song is for to demonstrate
A story with a pious moral
Beginning close to Clarilse Brige
And ending on the Isles of Coral.
1. A scho’oner sailed from George's Quay
for foreign parts one sultry saison
And on the shore a maiden stood and
cried like one bereft of raison.
""Och Johnny Doyle me love for you is
true but full of deep contrition.
For what will all the neighbours say
about me and me sad condition.""
2. The capstan turned and, sails unfurled,
the schooner scudded down the Liffey.
The damsel gave a piercing shriek, she
was a mother in a jiffy.
The vessel crossed the harbour bar, her
course was set for foreignfwatersf
To China where they're very wise and
drown at birth their surplus daughters.
3. Now years and years are past and gone
and Mary's child is self-supporting,
And Mary's heart is fit to break when
that young buck goes out a-courting.
And so says she on one fine day he'll
leave me lone and melancholy
I’ll dress me up in sailors' clothes and
scour the seven seas for Johnny.
4. She shipped aboard a pirate bold, which
raided on the hot equator
And with these hairy buccaneers there
sailed this sweet and verchus crathur.
The Captain thought her name was Bill
his character was most nefarious,
Consorting with this hainous baste, he:
situation was precarious.
5. I‘was in the Saragossa sea two rakish
lizquues were idly rolling
And Mary on the middle watch the
quarter deck she was patrolling.
She calmly watched the neighbouring ship,
they suddenly became exclamant,
For there upon the gilded poop, stood
Mr. Doyle in gorgeus raiment.
6. And now they're back in sweet Ringsend
that gem that sparkles on the Dodder
He lives a peaceful merchant’s life and l
does a trade in oats and fodder.
By marriage lines she's Mrs. Doyle, she
runs a stall of penny winkles
And when he hears ""She,'s that away""
his single eye with joy it twinkles.
7. Their family now it numbers ten i
and Mary's heart sings like a linnet,
And Johnny's tamed that wild young buck,
that stretched her patience to the limit.
They'are happy there in sweet Ringsend,
they will sail no more for foreign waters,
For Johnny Doyle his hands are full,
with fine strong sons and fine sweet daughters. |