| Oh i am a merry ploughboy,
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| And i plough the feilds by day,
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| 'Till a sudden thought came to my mind,
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| That i should roam away.
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| For I’ve always hated slavery,
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| Since the day that i was born,
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| So im off to join the IRA,
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| And im off tomorrow morn'.
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| So were all off to Dublin in the green,
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| Where the helmets glisten in the sun,
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| Where the bay’nets flash,
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| and rifles crash,
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| to the echo of a thompson gun.
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| I’ll leave behind my pick and spade,
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| I’ll leave behind my plough,
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| Oh i’ll leave behind my horse and yoke,
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| For no more i’ll need them now.
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| I’ll put on my short revolver
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| and my bandoller of lead
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| for to live or die I can but try
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| to avenge my country’s dead
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| So were all off to Dublin in the green,
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| Where the helmets glisten in the sun,
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| Where the bay’nets flash,
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| and rifles crash,
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| to the echo of a thompson gun.
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| And i leave behind my Mary,
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| She is the girl i do adore,
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| And i wonder if,
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| She thinks of me when she hears the rifles roar.
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| And when the war is over, and dear old Ireland is free
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| I’ll take her to the church to wed and a rebel’s wife she’ll be
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| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
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| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
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| Where the bay’nets flash and the riffles crash
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| To the echo of a Thompson gun.
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| Well some men fight for silver and some men fight for gold
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| But the I.R.A. |
| are fighting for the land the Saxons stole.
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| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
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| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
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| Where the bay’nets flash and the riffles crash
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| To the echo of a Thompson gun.
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| And we’re all off to Dublin in the green, in the green
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| Where the helmets glisten in the sun
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| Where the bay’nets flash and the riffles crash
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| To the echo of a Thompson gun. |