Oh, who will plough the fields all day
And who will thresh the corn
Who will tend the sheep now
And see them neatly shorn
The stack that's in the haggard
Unthreshed it may remain
Now that Johnnys gone a-threshing
All in the wars of Spain
The girls down in the Banóg
In sorrow may retire
And the piper with his bellows
May go home and blow the fire
Now Johnny, lovely Johnny
Is sailing o'er the main
Along with other patriots
To fight the king of Spain
The boys will surely miss him
When Moneymore comes around
And theyll weep that their bold captain
Is nowhere to be found
And the peelers may stand idle
All against their will and grain
Since the gallant boy who gave them work
Now peels the king of Spain
At wakes and hurling matches
Your like we'll never see
'Till you come back to us again
Mo storeen óg mo chroi
And won't you thresh the buckeens
That show us much disdain
Because our eyes are not so bright
As those youll see in Spain
If cruel fate should not allow
Our Johnny to return
His heavy loss we Bantry girls
Will never cease to mourn
We'll resign ourselves to our sad lot
And live in grief and pain
Since Johnny died for freedoms sake
In the far off land of Spain
Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com