While in the merry month of May from me home I started,

Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,

Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,

Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,

Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,

Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;

Bought a pair of brogues rattling o’er the bogs

And fright’ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.