| Oh, I am a merry ploughboy and I plough the fields all day
|
| Till a sudden thought came to my head, that I should roam away
|
| For I’m sick and tired of slavery since the day that I was born
|
| And I’m off to join the IRA and I’m off tomorrow morn
|
| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
|
| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
|
| Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash
|
| To the rattle of a Thompson gun
|
| I’ll leave aside me pick and spade, I’ll leave aside me plough
|
| I’ll leave aside me horse and yoke, I no longer need them now
|
| I’ll leave aside me Mary, she’s the girl that I adore
|
| And I wonder if she’ll think of me when she’ll hear the rifles roar
|
| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
|
| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
|
| Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash
|
| To the rattle of a Thompson gun
|
| And when the war is over and dear old Ireland is free
|
| I’ll take her to the church to wed and a rebel’s wife she’ll be
|
| Well, some men fight for silver and some men fight for gold
|
| But the IRA are fighting for the land that the Freestaters stole
|
| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
|
| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
|
| Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash
|
| To the rattle of a Thompson gun |