| Oh good evening, all my jolly lads, I’m glad to find you well
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| And when you’ll gather round me a story I will tell
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| For I’ve got a situation and begorrah and begob
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| I can whisper all the weekly wage of nineteen bob
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| 'Tis twelve months come October since I left me native home
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| After helping them Killarney boys to bring the harvest down
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| But now I wear the gansey and around me waist a belt
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| I’m the gaffer of the squad that makes the hot asphalt
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| Well, we laid it in a hollows and we laid it in the flat
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| And if it doesn’t last forever, sure I swear, I’ll eat me hat
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| Well, I’ve wandered up and down the world and sure I never felt
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| Any surface that was equal to the hot asphalt
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| The other night a copper comes and he says to me, McGuire
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| Would you kindly let me light me pipe down at your boiler fire?
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| And he planks himself right down in front, with hobnails up, till late
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| And says I, me decent man, you’d better go and find your bait
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| He ups and yells, I’m down on you, I’m up to all yer pranks
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| Don’t I know you for a traitor from the Tipperary ranks?
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| Boys, I hit straight from the shoulder and I gave him such a belt
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| That I knocked him into the boiler full of hot asphalt
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| Well, we laid it in a hollows and we laid it in the flat
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| And if it doesn’t last forever, sure I swear, I’ll eat me hat
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| Well, I’ve wandered up and down the world and sure I never felt
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| Any surface that was equal to the hot asphalt
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| Oh we quickly pulled him out again and we threw him in the tub
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| And with soap and warm water we began to rub and scrub
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| But devil the thing, it hardened and it turned him hard as stone
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| And with every other rub, sure you could hear the copper moan
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| I’m thinking, says O’Reilly, that he’s lookin' like old Nick
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| And burn me if I am not inclined to claim him with me pick
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| Now, says I, it would be easier to boil him till he melts
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| And to stir him nice and easy in the hot asphalt
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| Well, we laid it in a hollows and we laid it in the flat
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| And if it doesn’t last forever, sure I swear, I’ll eat me hat
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| Well, I’ve wandered up and down the world and sure I never felt
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| Any surface that was equal to the hot asphalt
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| (Missing verse)
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| With rubbing and with scrubbing, sure I caught me death of cold
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| For scientific purposes, me body it was sold
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| In the Kelvin grove museum, me boys, I’m hangin' in me pelt
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| As a monument to the Irish, making hot asphalt
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| Well, we laid it in a hollows and we laid it in the flat
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| And if it doesn’t last forever, sure I swear, I’ll eat me hat
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| Well, I’ve wandered up and down the world and sure I never felt
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| Any surface that was equal to the hot asphalt |