SUNDAY DRIVER
Well I’ve been a Sunday driver now for many’s a happy year And I’ve never had my Morris-Miner in route to second gear I can drive at 15 miles an hour on mo
Well I’ve been a Sunday driver now for many’s a happy year And I’ve never had my Morris-Miner in route to second gear I can drive at 15 miles an hour on mo
The night was icy cold I stood along I was waiting for an army foot patrol And when at last they came into my site I squeezed the trigger of my armalite Oh
I’m a stranger here from Ireland’s shore; I’ve been on the road six months or more Hikin’, workin’, travel in style; I’m a vagabond from Erin’s Isle My sun
I’m waiting for John Murphy’s van, to take me to the site Sure I’m working seven days a week From morning to dark night And when I step into the van and ge
You may sing or speak about Easter Week or the heroes of Ninety-Eight Those Fenian men who roamed the glen for victory or defeat Their names on history’s p
I’ve sung the Wild Rover for manys a year There’s some folk would boo and there’s others would cheer I sang it so often it gave me a pain So I’m no gonna s
(Will you go, lassie go) Oh, the summer time is coming, And the trees are sweetly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather.
There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Dugan was his name He was born and raised in Ireland, in a place called Castlemaine He was his father’s only son, his m