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 ass. 

There's a hairy ass 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 ass 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.