Bob Lynch, the forgotten Dubliner, with an old live version.
Lyrics:
One morning in March I was digging the land,
with me brogues on me feet and me spade in me hand
And says I to myself, such a pity to see,
such a fine strappin’ lad footin’ turf round Tralee
Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya
So I buttered me brogues, shook hands with me spade,
then went off to the fair like a dashing young blade
When up comes a sergeant he asks me to list,
’Arra, sergeant a gra, stick a bob in me fist
Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya
Well the first thing they gave me it was a red coat,
with a wide strap of leather to tie round me throat
They gave me a quare thing I asked what was that,
and they told me it was a cockade for me hat
Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya
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