Oh, who will plough the fields now?
Or who will sow the corn?
And who will mine the flock now
And keep them neatly sure?
Though stacked but in the haggard,
untrashed it may remain
Since Johnny, lovely Johnny,
went to fight the killer spin
O 'er the garrows from the barn o 'er,
In sorrow may retire,
And the piper and his bellows
Go home and low the fire.
Since Johnny, lovely Johnny,
is sailing o 'er the main
Along with other patriots
to fight the King of Spain
And the boys will sorely miss him
When Money Moor comes around
And they'll find that their bold captain
Is nowhere to be found
And pillars must invite them
Against their will and grain
Since the gallant boy who gave them work
Now he's the king of Spain
At wakes and harling matches,
your likes we'll never see
Until you return again to us,
a -starrin' old McCree
And won't you draw the bookings,
who show us much to stay?
Because our eyes are not so bright
as those you'd meet in Spain
If cruel fate will not permit
our Johnny to return
His heavy loss, the Bantry girls
will never cease to mourn
We'll resign ourselves to our sad lot
And die in grief and pain
Since Johnny died for Ireland's pride
In the foreign lands of Spain