Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed|
But join with me, each jovial blade
Come, drink and sing and lend your aid
To help me with the chorus:
Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
And pay the reckoning on the nail;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryowen in glory.
2. We'll beat the bailiffs out of fun,|
We'll make the mayor and sheriffs run
We are the boys no man dares dun
If he regards a whole skin.
3. Our hearts so stout have got no fame
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