From
The Jug of Punch,
Popular Irish Pub Songs

recorded at SixCat Studio
in Sheridan, OR, March, 2007.

The Rocky Road to Dublin
© 2007 by Paul Espinoza,
Forest Moon Music, BMI, all rights reserved

 In the merry month of June from me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,

Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;
A brand new pair of brogues rattling o'er the bogs,
And fright'ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.

Chorus:
One, two, three four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road,
And all the way to Dublin,
Whack follol de rah!

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight next morning blithe and early,
Took a drop of pure to keep me heart from sinking;
That’s a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking.

See the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'.
Asked me was I hired, wages I required,
I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin.

- Chorus -

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.
So then I took a stroll, all among the quality;
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.

Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'.
Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.

- Chorus -

From there I got away, me spirits never falling,
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.

Down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;
When off Holyhead I wished meself was dead,
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.

- Chorus -

Well the boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing.

"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly.
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,
With a loud "hurray !" joined in the affray.
We quietly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.

- Chorus -

Copyright ©
1998 - 2007

by Golden Bough, Inc.