John O'Reilly

Oh, my name is John O'Reilly

And my father worked the fields

In the hills of old Killarny

Where I helped him turn the wheels

Oh, my arms grew hard as iron for a boy of 17

And I used my fists for gambling in those wet Killarny 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

Well, I fought them for their dollar and those Guineas paid me well

Fairly well, fair Dover

Fairly well, your seasons turn

For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return

The day of my return

Well, I fought in New York City, and I fought in the Jersey shore

But my gut stayed full of whiskey, and my bed stayed full of whores

Well, they called my right a cannonball, my left they called the same

I left them all lyin', half in blood and half in shame

Well, I met a man on 32 and he stuck out his hand

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

Well, I said it could be done but only for another two

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

Fairly well, fair Dover

Fairly well your seasons turn

For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return

The day of my return (oh)

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 that 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

Fairly well, fair Dover

Fairly well your seasons turn

For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return

The day of my return

Fairly well, fair Dover

Fairly well your seasons turn