One morning in March I was diggin' the land With me brogues on me feet and me spade in me hand And says I to myself, such a pity to see Such a fine strappin' lad footin' turf round Tralee
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
So I buttered me brogues, shook hands with me spade Then I went to the fair like a dashing young blade When up comes a sergeant, he asks me to list 'Arra, sergeant a gra, stick the bob in me fist'
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
And the first thing they gave me it was a red coat With a white strap of leather to tie round me throat They gave me a quare thing; I asked what was that And they told me it was a cockade for me hat
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
The next thing they gave me they called it a gun With powder and shot and a place for me thumb Well first it spat fire and then it spat smoke Lord, she gave a great leap that me shoulder near broke
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
Well the first place they sent me was down by the quay On board of a warship bound for the Crimea Three sticks in the middle all rolled round with sheets Faith, she walked on the water without any feet
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
When at Balaclava we landed quite soon 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
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
Well we fought at the Alma, likewise Inkermann And the Russians they whaled us at the Redan In scaling the wall there myself lost me eye And a big Russian bullet she ran away with me thigh
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
't Was there we lay bleeding Stretched on the cold ground Both heads, legs and arms were all scattered around I thought of me mum and me cleavage were nigh Sure they'd bury me decent and raise a loud cry
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nya
Well a doctor was called And he soon stanched me blood And he gave me a fine elegant leg made of wood They gave me a medal and ten pence a day Contented with Sheelagh, I'll live on half-pay
Wid me toora na nye And me toora na nye Wid me toora na noo ra na Noo ra na nyaTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
