One morning in March I was digging 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
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
So I bu*tered me brogues, shook hands with me spade,
Then went off to the fair like a dashing young blade
When up comes a sergeant he asks me to list,
'Arra, sergeant a gra, stick a bob in me fist
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
Well the first thing they gave me they called it a gun,
With powder and shot and a place for me thumb
Well first she spat fire and then she spat smoke,
She gave a great leap and me shoulder near broke
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
Well we boarded the Alma likewise in likewise Inkermann,
And the Russians they caught us out at the Redan
In scalin' the walls there meself lost an eye,
And a big Russian bullet ran away with me thigh
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
'Twas there we lay bleeding stretched on the cold ground,
Both heads, legs and arms were all scattered around
I thought of me mam and me cleaveens were nigh,
Sure they'd bury me decent and raise a loud cry
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
Well a doctor was called and he soon staunched 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
With me too ra min ya and me too ra min ya,
With me too ra min ya and min ya and min ya
== Credits ==
* Traditional
* Roud Folk Song Index #520