In the merry month of June, from me home I started
Left the girls of Tuam nearly broken hearted
Saluted father dear, kissed my darling mother
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother
Then, off to reap the corn and leave where I was born
I cut a stout black-thorn to banish ghost and goblin
In a brand new pair of brogues, rattling o'er the bogs
And frightening all the dogs upon the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

In Mulligar that night I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight next morning bright and early
Took a drop of the pure, to keep my heart from sinking
That's the Paddy's cure, whene'er he's up for drinking
To see the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At my curious style, 'twould set your heart-a-bubblin'
They asked if I was hired, wages I required
I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity
To be so soon deprived a view of that fine city
So then I took a stroll all among the quality
My bundle it was stole all in that neat locality
Something crossed my mind, then I looked behind
No bundle could I find upon my stick a-wobbling
Enquiring for the rogue, they said my Connaught brogue
Wasn't much in vogue upon the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

From there I got away, my spirits never failing
Landed on the quay just as the ship was sailing
The captain at me roared, said that no room had he
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy
Down among the pigs, I danced some funny jigs
Played some hearty rigs, the water round me bubbling
When off Holyhead wished myself was dead
Or better far instead, upon the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

The boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing
Hurrah me soul says I, me shillelagh I let fly
Some Galway boys were by, and saw I was a hobbling
Then with a loud hurray, joining the affray
Quickly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la

One, two, three, four, five: Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin Wack-fol-lal-le-la