Oh I am a merry ploughboy
and I ploughed the fields all day
ŽTill a sudden thought came to my mind
that I should roam away
For IŽm sick and tired of slavery
since the day that I was born
And IŽm off to join the I.R.A.
and IŽm off tomorrow morn.
And weŽre all off to Dublin
in the green, in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash
and the rifles crash
To the echo of the Thompson Gun.
IŽll leave aside my pick and spade
and IŽll leave aside my plough
IŽll leave aside my old grey mare
for no more IŽll need them now
And IŽll take my short revolver
and my bandoleer of lead
IŽll do or die I can try
to avenge my countryŽs dead.
IŽll leave aside my Mary
sheŽs the girl I do adore
And I wonder will she think of me
when she hears the rifles roar
And when the war is over
and old Ireland she is free
I will take her to the church to wed
and a rebels wife sheŽll be
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