Oh I am a merry ploughboy
and I ploughed the fields all day
ґTill a sudden thought came to my mind
that I should roam away
For Iґm sick and tired of slavery
since the day that I was born
And Iґm off to join the IRA
and Iґm off tomorrow morn


And weґre all off to Dublin
in the green, in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash
and the rifles crash
To the echo of the Thompson Gun

Iґll leave aside my pick and spade
and Iґll leave aside my plough
Iґll leave aside my old grey mare
for no more Iґll need them now
And Iґll take my short revolver
and my bandoleer of lead
Iґll do or die I can try
to avenge my countryґs dead

Iґll leave aside my Mary
sheґs the girl I do adore
And I wonder will she think of me
when she hears the rifles roar
And when the war is over
and old Ireland she is free
I will take her to the church to wed
and a rebels wife sheґll be