I fasted for some forty days on bread and buttermilk, For
passing round the bottle with girls in rags or silk, In
country shawl or Paris cloak, had put my wits astray, And
what’s the good of women, for all that they can say Is
fol de rol de rolly O. Round
Lough Derg’s holy island I went upon the stones, I
prayed at all the Stations upon my marrow bones, And
there I found an old man and though I prayed all day And
that old man beside me, nothing would he say But
fol de rol de rolly O. All
know that all the dead in the world about that place are stuck, And
that should mother seek her son she'd have but little luck Because
the fires of purgatory have ate their shapes away; I
swear to God I questioned them, and all they had to say Was
fol de rol de rolly O. A
great black ragged bird appeared when I was in the boat; Some
twenty feet from tip to tip had it stretched rightly out, With
flopping and with flapping it made a great display, But
I never stopped to question, what could the boatman say But
fol de rol de rolly O. Now
I am in the public house and lean upon the wall, So
come in rags or come in silk, in cloak or country shawl, And
come with learned lovers or with what men you may, For
I can put the whole lot down, and all I have to say Is fol de rol de rolly O. |
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