Oh, Missis McGrath, the sergeant said, Would
you like to make a soldier out of your son, Ted? With a scarlet coat, and a three-cocked hat, Now Missis McGrath, wouldn't
you like that? Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol
de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Oh Mrs. McGrath lived by the seashore For the space of seven long years
or more; Till she saw a big ship sail into the bay, Here's my son, Ted, wisha, clear the way! Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Oh,
Captain, dear, where have ye been Have you been in the Meditereen? Will ye tell me the news of my son, Ted? Is the
poor boy livin', or is he dead? Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Ah, well up comes Ted without any legs An
in their place he had two wooden pegs, She kissed him a dozen times or two, Saying, Holy Moses, 'tisn't you. Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Oh
then were ye drunk, or were ye blind That ye left your two fine legs behind? Or was it walkin' upon the sea Wore
your two fine legs from the knees away? Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Oh, I wasn't drunk and I wasn't blind But
I left my two fine legs behind. For a cannon ball, on the fifth of May, Took my two fine legs from the knees away. Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
Oh,
Teddy, me boy, the old widow cried, Yer two fine legs were yer mammy's pride, Them stumps of a tree wouldn't do at all, Why
didn't ye run from the big cannon ball? Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
All foreign wars I do proclaim Between
Don John and the King of Spain And by herrins I'll make them rue the time That they swept the legs from a child of mine. Wid yer too-ri-aa, fol de diddle aa Too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa.
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