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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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

The next thing they gave me they called it a gun,
with powder and shot and a place for me thumb
Well first she spat fire and then she spat smoke,
she gave a great leap and me shoulder near broke

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 place they sent me was down by the quay,
on board of a warship bound for the Crimea
Three sticks in the middle all rowled round with sheets,
faith, she walked on the water without any feet

Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya

When at Balaclava we landed quite soon,
both cold, wet and hungry we lay on the ground
Next morning for action the bugle did call,
and we had a hot breakfast of powder and ball

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 we fought at the Alma, likewise Inkermann,
and [bad word] they whaled us at the Redan
In scalin' the walls there meself lost an eye,
and a [bad word] bullet ran off with me thigh

Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya

'Twas there we lay bleeding stretched on the cold ground,
both heads, legs and arms were all scattered around
I thought of me mam and me cleaveens were nigh,
sure they'd bury me decent and raise a loud cry

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 a doctor was called and he soon staunched me blood,
and he gave me a fine elegant leg made of wood
They gave me a medal and ten pence a day,
contented with Sheelagh, I'll live on half pay

Wid me too ra na nya and me too ra na nya,
wid me too ra na noo ra na noo ra na nya

MORE FOLKISH VERSION TO LISTEN TO: [bad word] /www [bad word] watch?v=nkqK72W-HLk