Karaoké The Day Of My Return Mike Denver

My name is John O'Reilly and my father worked the fields

In the hills of old Killarney where I helped him turn the wheels

My arms grew hard as iron for a boy of seventeen

And I used my fists for gamblin'

In those wet Killarney streets

Well the ship left for America and I took my pack aboard

Said goodbye to my dear Ireland

Said a prayer to my dear Lord

Well I fought those sorry guineas in the kitchen they called Hell

And I fought them for their dollars and those guineas paid me well

Fare thee well fair Dover fare thee well your seasons turn

My pockets will be jinglin' on the day of my return the day of my return

Well I fought in New York city and I fought the Jersey shores my gut stayed full of whiskey

And my bed stayed full of whores

They called my right a cannon-ball my left they called the same

And I left them all a-lyin' half in blood and half in shame

Well I met a man on thirty two and he stuck out his hand

And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man

But I said it could be done but only for another two

And he smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe

Fare thee well fair Dover fare thee well your seasons turn

My pockets will be jinglin' on the day of my return the day of my return

Well they rang the bell two times before I let him have my nose

And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed

Then I let loose a right that they still talk about today for that guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way

Well they covered every dock and every port there on the coast

Looking for the double-crosser who had turned into a ghost

But I was on a train my friend that rode the other way

And I'll sail from California back to Dublin one fine day

Fare thee well fair Dover fare thee well your seasons turn

My pockets will be jinglin' on the day of my return the day of my return

Fare thee well fair Dover fare thee well your seasons turn

My pockets will be jinglin' on the day of my return the day of my return