| CHORUS: Have another drink, boys. |
| Well, have one with me.
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| We’re home from the sea. |
| Yes, we’re back on the shore;
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| And if you get too drunk, boys, in this company,
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| You’ll roar 'round Cape Horn on the Rory O’Mor.
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| He lived on the dockside near Liverpool town,
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| And he always went down to the «Thief and the Vagabond.»
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| Everyone knew him as Dublin O’Shea.
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| Some say he came from Killarney.
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| CHORUS
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| I sing of an Irishman honest and plain,
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| But what’s in a name when you think of the man himself?
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| He was a sinner and he drank with the same,
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| And he mastered the fine art of blarney.
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| CHORUS
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| He was a lay preacher and a God-fearin' man
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| With a drink in his hand. |
| What a terrible sinner!
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| He’d drink with the Devil and spit in his eye,
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| Then go to confession on Friday.
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| CHORUS
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| For ramblin' and rovin' there’s none to compare.
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| If you’d met him you’d swear that the man was a saint;
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| But if you could just see him in some foreign bar,
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| You’d swear he was the High King of Ireland.
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| CHORUS |