Sullivan John

Oh Sullivan’s John, to the road you've gone, far away

from your native home.

You've gone with the tinker's daughter, for along the

road to roam.

Ah Sullivan's John you won't stick it long, till your

belly will soon get slack,

As you roam the road with a mighty load, and a tool box

on your back.

I met Katy Caffey and a neat baby all behind on her back

strapped on,

She’s an old ash plant all in her hands, for to drive her

donkey on

Enquiring every farmer`s house, as along the road she

passed,

Oh where would she get an old pot to mend, and where

would she get an ass.

There's a hairy ass fair in the County Clare. in a place

they call Spancil Hill,

Where my brother James got a rap o’er the hanes, and poor

Paddy they tried to kill.

They loaded him up in an ass and cart, for along the road

to go,

Oh bad luck to the day that I went away, to join with the

tinker`s band.