The Dubliners - The Kerry Recruit

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 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 the Russians they whaled us at the Redan In scalin’ the walls there meself lost an eye, and a big Russian bullet ran away 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