Lyrics

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

A prudent thief should never drink so much that he becomes bold. Because a thief who boasts and brags will rarely live to grow old. For silence is a thief’

THE IRISH NATIONAL ANTHEM Sinne Fianna Fáil Atá Fá gheall ag Éirinn Buidhean dár sluagh tar rúinn do ráinig chughainn Fámhoídh bheírh saor Sean-tír ár sinn

I’m a poor man as honest as they come I never was a thief until they caught me, The judge said he swore me hands were red, no matter how I pled they found