Tonalité : G major•
Intro 1
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And it's by the hush -me -bys
Verse 1
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And that's to hold your knives
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And listen to poor Paddy's narration
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I was by hunger pressed,
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and in poverty distressed
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So I took a thought,
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I'd leave the Irish nation
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Here's you boys, do take my advice
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To America I'd have you not be comin'
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For there's nothin' here but war
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Where the murderin' cannons roar
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And I wish I was at home
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in dee road, Adam
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Well, I sold my horse and plough,
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I sold my pig and cow
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And from that farm of land I parted
And my sweetheart Biddy McGee,
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oh, I'm sure I'll never see
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For I left her on that mornin'
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broken hearted
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Here's you boys, do take my advice
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To America, I'd have you not be comin'
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For there's nothing here but war
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where the mur derin' cannons roar
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And I wish I was at home
in dear old Adam
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Then meself and a hundred more
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to America sailed o 'er
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Our fortunes to be makin'
we were thinkin'
When we landed in Yankee land
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They shoved a gun into our hand
Sayin' Paddy,
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you must go and fight for Lincoln
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Here's you boys, you take my advice
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To America I'd have you not be comin'
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For there's nothin' here but war
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Where the martyrin' cannons roar
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And I wish I was home in dear old Arran
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Interlude 1
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Verse 2
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General Martu has said,
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if you get shot or lose your head,
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every mother's son of you will
get a pension.
In the war, I lost my leg,
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all life now is a wooden peg.
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By my soul, it is the truth to
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you I'll mention.
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Here's you boys, who take my advice,
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To America I'd have you not be coming,
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For there's nothing here but war,
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Where the marjoram cannons roar,
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And I wish I was at home
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in the old town.
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Now I think myself in luck
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to be fed on Indian buck
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In Aldia land, the country I delight in
And with the devil I do say,
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O Christ curse America
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For I'm sure I've had enough
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of your hard fightin'
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Here's you boys, do take my advice
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To America I'd have you not be comin'
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For there's nothin' here but war
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Where the marjoram cannon wheels roar
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And I wish I was a Tom Lindy Rodin
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