| The Garden of Eden has vanished they say
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| But I know the lie of it still
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| Just turn to the left at the bridge of Finea
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| And stop when halfway to Cootehill.
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| 'Tis there I will find it I know sure enough
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| When fortune has come to my call,
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| Oh the grass it is green around Ballyjamesduff
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| And the blue sky is over it all
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| And tones that are tender and tones that are gruff,
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| Are whispering over the sea,
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| Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff,
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| Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me.
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| My mother once told me that when I was born
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| The day that I first saw the light,
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| I looked down the street on that very first morn
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| And gave a great crow of delight.
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| Now most newborn babies appear in a huff,
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| And start with a sorrowful squall
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| But I knew I was born in Ballyjamesduff
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| And that’s why I smiled on them all.
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| The baby’s a man, now he’s toil-worn and tough,
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| Still, whispers come over the sea,
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| Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff
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| Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me.
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| The night that we danced by the light of the moon,
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| Wid Phil to the fore wid his flute,
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| When Phil threw his lip over 'Come Again Soon,'
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| He’s dance the foot out o' yer boot!
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| The day that I took long Magee by the scruff
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| For slanderin' Rosie Kilrain,
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| Then, marchin' him straight out of Ballyjamesduff,
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| Assisted him into a drain.
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| Oh, sweet are the dreams, as the dudeen I puff,
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| Of whisperings over the sea,
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| Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff
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| Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me.
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| I’ve loved the young women of every land,
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| That always came easy to me;
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| Just barrin' the belles of the Black-a-moor brand
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| And the chocolate shapes of Feegee.
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| But that sort of love is a moonshiny stuff,
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| And never will addle me brain,
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| For the bells will be ringin' in Ballyjamesduff
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| For me and me Rosie Kilrain!
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| And through all their glamour, their gas and their guff
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| A whisper comes over the sea,
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| Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff
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| Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me. |