In the sweet country Lim'rick, 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 ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
And the juice of the barley for me
Well when I was a gossoon of eight years old or so
With me turf and me primer to school I did go
To a dusty old school house without any door
Where lay the school master blind drunk on the floor
Singing ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
And the juice of the barley for me
At the learning I wasn't such a genius I'm thinking,
But I soon bet the master entirely at drinking,
Not a wake or a wedding for five miles around,
But meself in the corner was sure to be found.
Singing ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
And the juice of the barley for me
One Sunday the priest thread 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 hell
And his words they did frighten me the truth for to tell
Singing ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
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 drinking tumblers of punch
Singing ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
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 ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na
And the juice of the barley for me