| O’Sullivan John to the road you’re gone
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| Far away from your native land
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| You’ve gon with the tinker’s daughter
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| Far along the road to roam
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| O’Sullivan John you won’t stick it long
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| Till your belly will soon be slack
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| As you roam the road with a mighty loan
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| And a tool box on your back
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| I met Katie Coffee with her neat baby
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| Behind on her back strapped on
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| She’d an old ash plant in her hand
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| To drive the donkey along
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| Enquiring at every farmers house, as
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| Along the road she passed
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| And it’s where would you get an
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| Old pot to mend, and where would she get an ass
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| There’s a hairy ass fair in the County Clare
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| In a place they call Spancil Hill
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| Where my brother James got a wrap of a haimes
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| And poor Paddy they tried to kill
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| They loaded him up in an old ass and cart
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| While Kate and big Mary looked on
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| Ah, bad luck to the day that I went away
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| To join with the tinkers band |