The Juice of the Barley

In the sweet country limrick, one cold winter's night

All the turf fires were burning, when I first saw the light

And a drunken old midwife, went tipsy with joy

As she danced round the floor with her slip of a boy;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–

Well when I was a gossoon of eight years old or sooooo

With me turf, and me primer, to school I did go

To a dirty old schoolhouse, without any door

Where lay the school master blind drunk on the floor;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–

At the learning I wasn't such a genius, I'm thinkin

But I soon beat the master entirely at drinking

Not a wake or a wedding, for five miles around

But myself in the corner was sure to be found;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–

One Sunday the priest read me out from the altar

Saying you'll end up your days with your neck in a halter

And you'll dance a fine jig, between heaven and heck

And his words they did fright me the truth for to tell;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–

So the very next morning, as the dawn it did break

I went down to the vestry, the pledge for to take

And there in that room, sat the priests in a bunch

Round a big roaring fire drinkin tumblers of punch;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–

Well from that day to this, I have wandered alone

I'm a jack of all trades, and a master of none

With the sky for me roof, and the earth for me floor

And I'll dance out my days frinking whiskey galore;

Singing báinne na mbó is an ghamhna

And the juice of the barley for me

–