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For Johnny, lovely Johnny, he's a-sailing o'er the Main
He's along with all the patriots to fight the King of Spain

And who will plough the fields now, and who will sell the corn
And who will watch the sheep now and keep them neatly shorn
And the stack that's in the haggard, un-threshed it may remain
Since Johnny went a-threshing all in the wars of Spain.

And the girls from the Bánóg in sorrow may retire
And the piper and his bellows go home and blow his fire
For Johnny, lovely Johnny, he's a-sailing o'er the main
He's along with all the patriots to fight the King of Spain.

And the boys will surely miss him when moneymore comes around
And they grieve that their brave captain is nowhere to be found
And the peelers must stand idle, against their will and grain
For the gallant boy that gave them work now peels the King of Spain.

And at wakes and hurling matches your likes we'll seldom see
'Til you return back home again, a stóirín gheal mo chroí
And won't you trouble the buckeens who show us great disdain
Because our eyes are not as bright as those you'll meet in Spain.

And if cruel faith does not permit our Johnny to return
This heavy loss, we Bantry girls will never cease to mourn
We'll resign ourselves to our sad loss and we die in grief and pain
Since Johnny died for freedom's sake, in the foreign land of Spain.


Moneymore:

Although Moneymore is a town in Northern Ireland, here it means “harvest,” a corruption of the Irish “meán fómhar.”
a stóirín gheal mo chroí:

Irish for “o bright treasure of my heart”
buckeens:

Idle young lads

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