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