Charlie Robison: John O''Reilly

My name is John O'Reilly And my father worked the fields In the hills of ol' Kilarney Where I helped him turn the wheels My arms grew hard as iron For a boy of 17 And I used fists for gamblin' In those wet Kilarney streets A ship left for America I took my pack aboard Said goodbye to my dear Ireland Said a prayer to my dear Lord I fought those sorry guineas In the kitchen they called hell I fought 'em for their dollar And those guineas paid me well Fair thee well fair Dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling On the day of my return The day of my return I fought in New York City and I Fought the Jersey shore My gut stayed full o 'whiskey My bed stayed full o' whores They called my right a cannonball My left they called the same I left 'em all lyin half in blood And half in shame I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand He offered me a 1,000 if I'd fall before his man I said it could be done but only for another two He smiled at me and nodded as I Stuck it in my shoe Fair thee well fair Dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling On the day of my return The day of my return They rang the bell two times Before I'd let I'd have my nose I let him work my left until My eye was swollen closed Then let loose right that they Still talk about today For that guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way They covered every dock at night Part there on the coast Lookin for the double crosser Who had turned into a ghost But I was on a train my friend That rolled the other way I'll sail from California back To Dublin one fine day Fair thee well fair Dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling On the day of my return The day of my return