The Dubliners
앨범 : The Dubliners - The Definitive Transatlantic Collection

One mornin` I was diggin` the land with me
brogues on me feet and me spade in me hand
And says I to meself
What a pity to see such a fine strappin`
lad footin` turf round Tralee
So I buttered me brogues shook hands with me
spade and went off to the fair
like a dashing young blade
And up comes the sergeant
and he asks me to list
Arra sergeant a-grah stick a bob in me fist
With me toor in men ya toor in men ya
With me toor in men toor in men toor in men ya
Then up came a captain a man of great fame
who straight ways enquires me country and name
Well I told him before as I`d tell him again
that me father and mother were two Kerrymen
Well the first thing they gave me
it was a red coat with a fine strap of leather to tie
`round me throat
The next thing they gave me
I asked What was that
and they told me it was cockade for me hat
The next thing they gave me
they called it a horse with a saddle
and bridle me two legs across
Well I gave `er the whip and I gave `er the steel
and Oh Holy Mother She went like an eel
The next thing they gave me they called it a gun
with powder and shot and a place for me thumb
First she spat fire and then she spat smoke
and gave a great leap and me shoulder near broke
The next place they took us was down to the sea
aboard of a war ship bound for the Crimee
Three sticks in the middle all rolled round
with sheet she walked on the water without any feet
When at Balaclava we landed quite sound
both cold wet and hungry we lay on the ground
Next morning for action the bugle did call
and we had a hot breakfast of powder and ball
We fought at the Alma likewise Inkerman
and the Russians wailed us at the Redan
While scaling the wall there meself lost an eye
and a big Russian bullet ran away with me thigh
Was there we lay bleedin` streched on the cold ground
both heads legs & arms were all scattered around
I thought of me Ma and he clavens were nigh
sure they`d bury me decent and raise a loud cry
The doctor was called and he soon staunched me
blood and they gave me a fine
elegant leg made of wood
And they gave me a pension of tenpence
a day And contented with Sheila I live on half-pay
Now that was the story my grandfather told
As he sat by the fire all withered and old
Remember said he
that the Irish fight well
But the Russian artillery`s hotter than Hell