Oh Sullivan's John, to the road you've gone, far away from your native home.
You've gone with the tinker's daughter, for along the road to roam.
Ah Sullivan's John you won't stick it long, till your belly will soon get slack,
As you roam the road with a mighty load, and a tool box on your back.
I met Katy Caffey and a neat baby all behind on her back strapped on,
She's an old ash plant all in her hands, for to drive her donkey on
Enquiring every farmer`s house, as along the road she passed,
Oh where would she get an old pot to mend, and where would she get an a**.
There's a hairy a** fair in the County Clare. in a place they call Spancil Hill,
Where my brother James got a rap o'er the hanes, and poor Paddy they tried to kill.
They loaded him up in an a** and cart, for along the road to go,
Oh bad luck to the day that I went away, to join with the tinker`s band.
You've gone with the tinker's daughter, for along the road to roam.
Ah Sullivan's John you won't stick it long, till your belly will soon get slack,
As you roam the road with a mighty load, and a tool box on your back.
I met Katy Caffey and a neat baby all behind on her back strapped on,
She's an old ash plant all in her hands, for to drive her donkey on
Enquiring every farmer`s house, as along the road she passed,
Oh where would she get an old pot to mend, and where would she get an a**.
There's a hairy a** fair in the County Clare. in a place they call Spancil Hill,
Where my brother James got a rap o'er the hanes, and poor Paddy they tried to kill.
They loaded him up in an a** and cart, for along the road to go,
Oh bad luck to the day that I went away, to join with the tinker`s band.