John O'Reilly

Oh, my name is John O'Reilly
 And my father worked the fields
 In the hills of old Killarny
 Where I helped him turn the wheels
 Oh, my arms grew hard as iron for a boy of 17
 And I used my fists for gambling in those wet Killarny streets
 Well, the ship left for America, and I took my pack aboard
 Said goodbye to my dear Ireland, said a prayer to my dear Lord
 Well, I fought those sorry Guineas in the kitchen they called hell
 Well, I fought them for their dollar and those Guineas paid me well
 Fairly well, fair Dover
 Fairly well, your seasons turn
 For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return
 The day of my return
 Well, I fought in New York City, and I fought in the Jersey shore
 But my gut stayed full of whiskey, and my bed stayed full of whores
 Well, they called my right a cannonball, my left they called the same
 I left them all lyin', half in blood and half in shame
 Well, I met a man on 32 and he stuck out his hand
 And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man
 Well, I said it could be done but only for another two
 He smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe
 Fairly well, fair Dover
 Fairly well your seasons turn
 For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return
 The day of my return (oh)
 Well, they rang the bell two times before I let him have my nose
 And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed
 Then I let loose, a right that they still talk about today
 For that Guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way
 Well, they covered every dock and every port there on the coast
 Looking for that double crosser who had turned into a ghost
 But I was on a train, my friend that rode the other way
 And I'll sail from California back to Dublin one fine day
 Fairly well, fair Dover
 Fairly well your seasons turn
 For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return
 The day of my return
 Fairly well, fair Dover
 Fairly well your seasons turn
 For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return
 The day of my return (oh)