Oh, who will plough the fields all day
And who will thresh the corn
Who will tend the sheep now
And see them neatly shorn
The stack that's in the haggard
Unthreshed it may remain
Now that Johnnys gone a-threshing
All in the wars of Spain The girls down in the Bang
In sorrow may retire
And the piper with his bellows
May go home and blow the fire
Now Johnny, lovely Johnny
Is sailing o'er the main
Along with other patriots
To fight the king of Spain The boys will surely miss him
When Moneymore comes around
And theyll weep that their bold captain
Is nowhere to be found
And the peelers may stand idle
All against their will and grain
Since the gallant boy who gave them work
Now peels the king of Spain At wakes and hurling matches
Your like we'll never see
'Till you come back to us again
Mo storeen g mo chroi
And won't you thresh the buckeens
That show us much disdain
Because our eyes are not so bright
As those youll see in Spain