Irish traditional song lyrics — collected by Beer Belly Band.
“Oh, Mrs. McGrath,” the sergeant said, “Would you like to make a soldier out of your son, Ted?
With a scarlet coat, and a big cocked hat, sure, Mrs. McGrath, wouldn’t you like that?”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
Now Mrs. McGrath lived by the seashore for the space of seven long years or more;
Till she say a big ship sail into the bay, “Here’s my son, Ted, will ye clear the way!”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
“Oh, Captain, dear, where have ye been? ; have you been in the Mediterranean?
Will ye tell me the news of my son, Ted? Is the poor boy livin’, or is he dead?”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
Ah, well up comes Ted without any legs an in their place he had two wooden pegs,
Well, she kissed him a dozen times or two, saying “Glory to God?, sure it wouldn’t be you!”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
“Oh were ye drunk, or were ye blind that ye left your two fine legs behind?
Or was it while walkin’ on the sea a big fish ate your legs from the knees away?”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
“Well, I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t blind when I left my two fine legs behind.
But a cannon ball, on the fifth of May, tore my two fine legs from the knees away.”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
“Oh, Teddy, me boy,” the old widow cried, “Yer two fine legs were yer mammy’s pride,
Them stumps of a tree wouldn’t do at all, why didn’t ye run from the big cannon ball?”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.
“Well, all foreign wars I do proclaim between Don John and the King of Spain,
And bejasus I’ll make them rue the time what they swept the legs from a child of mine.”
With your too- ri- ay, fol the diddle day, Too- ri- you- ri too- ri- ay.