The Irish Washerwoman

When I was at home, I was merry and frisky.

My dad kept a pig, but my mother sold whiskey.

My uncle was rich, but ne’er could be easy,

till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

my dear little Shelah I thought would run crazy

When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey,

Och, rub-a-dub row-de-row, Shelah my love.

I marched from Kilkenny, but as I was thinking,

on Shelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking.

But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,

for fear of a drubbin’ from Corporal Casey.

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

the devil go with him, I ne’er could be lazy

He struck my shirts so, old Corporal Casey,

och, rub-a-dub row-de-row, Shelah my dear.

We went into battle, I took the blows fairly,

that fell on my pate, but they bothered me rarely.

And who should the first be that dropped? Why, and please you,

it was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

thinks I, “You are quiet and I shall be easy.”

So eight years I fought without Corporal Casey,

Och, rub-a-dub row-de-row, Shelah my gal.

I marched from Kilkenny, but as I was thinking,

on Shelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking.

But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,

for fear of a drubbin’ from Corporal Casey.

Och, rub-a-dub, row-de-dow, Corporal Casey,

the devil go with him, I ne’er could be lazy

He struck my shirts so, old Corporal Casey,

och, rub-a-dub row-de-row, Shelah my dear.