My name is John O'Reilly
   And my father worked the fields
   In the hills of ol' Kilarney
   Where I helped him turn the wheels
   My arms grew hard as iron
   For a boy of 17
   And I used fists for gamblin'
   In those wet Kilarney streets
  
   A ship left for America
   I took my pack aboard
   Said goodbye to my dear Ireland
   Said a prayer to my dear Lord
   I fought those sorry guineas
   In the kitchen they called hell
   I fought 'em for their dollar
   And those guineas paid me well
  
   Fair thee well fair Dover
   Fair thee well your seasons turn
   For my pockets will be jingling
   On the day of my return
   The day of my return
  
   I fought in New York City and I
   Fought the Jersey shore
   My gut stayed full o 'whiskey
   My bed stayed full o' whores
   They called my right a cannonball
   My left they called the same
   I left 'em all lyin half in blood
   And half in shame
  
   I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand
   He offered me a 1,000 if I'd fall before his man
   I said it could be done but only for another two
   He smiled at me and nodded as I
   Stuck it in my shoe
  
   Fair thee well fair Dover
   Fair thee well your seasons turn
   For my pockets will be jingling
   On the day of my return
   The day of my return
  
   They rang the bell two times
   Before I'd let I'd have my nose
   I let him work my left until
   My eye was swollen closed
   Then let loose right that they
   Still talk about today
   For that guinea didn't know that
   I had bet the other way
  
   They covered every dock at night
   Part there on the coast
   Lookin for the double crosser
   Who had turned into a ghost
   But I was on a train my friend
   That rolled the other way
   I'll sail from California back
   To Dublin one fine day
  
   Fair thee well fair Dover
   Fair thee well your seasons turn
   For my pockets will be jingling
   On the day of my return
   The day of my return