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
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