For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Well in the merry month of May, Now from me home I started. Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted, Saluted father dear, Kissed me darlin mother, Drank a pint of beer, Me grief and tears to smother. Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born. Cut a stout black thorn, To banish ghosts and goblins. A brand new pair of brogues, To rattle over the bogs, And fright’n all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary. Started by daylight, Next morning light and airy. Took a drop of the pure, To keep me heart from shinkin’. That’s the Paddy’s cure, Whene’er he’s on for drinkin’. To hear the lassies smile, Laughin’ all the while, At me curious style, T’would set yer heart a bubblin’. He asked me was I hired, and wages I required, Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pitty, To be so soon deprived, Of view of that fine city. Then I took a stroll. All among the quality, Bundle it was stolen, In a neat locality. Something crossed me mind, When I looked behind, No bundle could I find, Upon me stick a wobblin’. Inquirin’ after the rogue, Said me Connacht brogue, It wasn’t much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. From there I got away, Me spirits never failing, Landed on the quay, Just as the ship was sailing. Captain at me roared. Said that no room had he, When I jumped aboard. A cabin found for Paddy, Down among the pigs. Did some hearty rigs, And played some hearty jigs, The water ’round me bubblin’. When off Holyhead, I wished meself was dead, Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. The boys of liver pool, When we safely landed, Called meself the fool, I could no longer stand it. Blood began to boil. Temper I was losin’. Poor old Erin’s Isle, They began abusin’. “Hurrah! Me soul!” says I. Shillelagh I let fly. Galway boys were by, And saw I was a hobblin’, With a loud “Hurray!” They join in the affray. Quickly clear the way, For the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da.

For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: I was born on a Dublin street, where the loyal drums did beat, And those loving English feet, they walked all over us. And every single night, when me da' would come home tight, He'd invite the neighbors out, with this chorus: "Come out ye black and tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra." Come let us hear you tell how you slandered great Parnell, When you thought him well and truly persecuted. Where are the sneers and jeers that you loudly let us hear, When our leaders of '16 were executed? Come out ye black and tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra. Come tell us how you slew them ol' Arabs two by two. Like the Zulus they had spears and bow-and-arrows. How bravely you faced one with your sixteen-pounder gun, And you frightened them damn natives to the marrow. Come out ye black and tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra. Now the time is coming fast, and I think them days are here, When each English Seonín heel run before us. And if there'll be a need, then our kids will say, "Godspeed," With a verse or two of singing this fine chorus: Come out ye black and tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away, From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra.