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Come all ye loyal heroes, wherever you might be Don't hire out to any master till you know what your work will be Don't hire out to any master, for from the clear day light till the dawn They'll want you to be able for to plough the Rocks of Bawn. Me boots they are well worn and me stockings they are thin And me overcoat is threadbare now and I'm soaking to the skin But I'll rise up in the morning and from the clear day light till the dawn They'll want me to be able, to plough the Rocks of Bawn. Me curse attend you Sweeney, sure you have me nearly robbed With you're boots upon the fireside, and your feet upon the hob Yes you'll sit there by the fireside, and from clear daylight till dawn You never will be able to plough the Rocks of Bawn Rise up, me lovely Sweeney, and give your horse some hay And give him loads of oats to eat before you start your day Don't feed him on soft turnip boy, bring him down to my green lawn And then you may be able to plough the Rocks of Bawn. Well I wish the Queen of England would write to me in time And place me in some regiment all in my youth and prime I'll fight for Ireland's glory, from the clear daylight till dawn And I never will return again to plough the Rocks of Bawn. |