| lyric | Come all you young Irishmen that are inclined to roam,
To reap the English harvest, so far away from home;
Be sure you’re well provided with comrades just and true
For you’ll have to fight both and night with Johnny Bull and his crew.
When we left home for Dublin, the weather it was fair.
And when we got on board the ship we gave a hearty cheer!
Hurrah! my boys! for Paddy’s land, the place we all adore,
The heavens smile on every child that loves the Shamrock shore.
We sailed away from Dublin quay and ne’er received a shock
’Till we landed safe on shore once more one side of Clarence Dock,
Where numbers of our Irish boys they met us in the town,
And ‘Hurrah for Paddy’s lovely land’ was the toast that went around.
With one consent away we went to drink strong ale and wine,
And each man drank a favourite health to the girl he left behind.
We drank and sung till the ale—house rung, despising Erin’s foes,
Or any man that hates the land where Patrick’s Shamrock grows.
Next morning by the break of day, as quickly you shall hear,
One hundred strong we marched along without either dread or fear,
Each man had his blackthorn stick he brought from Paddy’s land,
And a hook that gleamed like polished steel or silver in his hand.
For three days we tramp’d away high wages for to find,
And on the following evening we came to a railway line;
The navvies they came up to us and loudly they did rail,
They curs’d and damn’d the Paddies and the sons of Granuail.
Up starts Barney Walsh and says, ‘Boys what do you mean?
Are we not men as well as you and hate a coward’s name.
So Faugh-a-Ballagh! clear the way! or some of you must fall,
For here we stand true Irishmen that never fear’d a call.’
These English navvies curs’d and swore they’d kill us ten times o’er,
They would make us remember Banamuck and Glevnamore,
Brave Father Maguire, just and true, they curs’d his blessed remains,
Which made our County Leitrim boys to burn for revenge.
Up steps Barney Riley and he knocks their ganger down.
The bricks and stones they flew like hail in showers they came down.
We fought from half—past four until the sun was going to set,
When Riley says, ‘My Irish boys, I fear we will be beat.’
‘Come now with me, my countrymen resume the fight once more.
We’ll assail the foes on every side more desperate than before,
We’ll let them know before we go, we’d rather fight than fly,
For at the worst of times, my boys, you know we’d rather die.’
We sallied back with Barney and challenged another round.
Like Samson with the Philistines we laid them on the ground.
We fought our way, the lifelong day to force them to give o’er.
We proved to them we were Irishmen from sweet old Ballinamore.
When the fight commenced the second time ’tis there you’d see some fun,
The hooks and sticks were flashing, till the navvies were undone,
The cowardly clan away they ran, their heads and arms sore,
They’ll remember Barney Riley and the boys of Ballinamore.
So here’s long life to Riley, M’Cormick and M’Cabe
And likewise brave M’Gorner who never was afraid;
And every man from Paddy’s land that fought upon that day,
And forced those English navvies in gangs to run away. |