THE JUICE OF THE BARLEY                Trad. Irish

       A                          D
In the sweet County Lim'rick, one cold winter's night,
        A                              D             E
All the turf fires were burnin' when I first saw the light,
      A                         D
And a drunken auld midwife went tipsy with joy
       A                               D         E
As she danced 'round the room wit' her slip of a boy

Chorus:
        A                  D  A
Singing Ban-ya-na mo if an-ga-na (gauna)
                     D      E   A  (D  A)
And the Juice of the Barley for me!


Now when I was a gossoon of eight years or so,
Wit' me turf and me primer to school I did go,
To a dusty auld school-house wit'out any door,
Where lay the School-master blind drunk on the floor

At the learning I wasn't (such) a genius, I'm t'inkin',
But I soon bate the master entirely at drinkin':
Not a wake or a wedding for five miles around
But meself in the corner was sure to be found

One evening the Priest read me out from the altar,
Sayin' "Ye'll end up your days wit' your neck in a halter,
And ye'll dance a fine jig between Heaven and Hell!"
And his words they did frighten me, truth for to tell

So early next morning, as dawn it did break,
I went down to the Vestry, the Pledge for to take,
And there in that room sat the priests in a bunch,
'Round a big roarin' fire, drinkin' tumblers of punch

So from that day to this I have wandered alone:
I'm a jack of all trades and a master of none.
With the sky for me roof and the Earth for me floor,
I'll dance out me days drinkin' whiskey galore