I am a young fellow that's easy and bold, In Castletown conners I'm very well known. In Newcastle West I spent many a note, With Kitty and Judy and Mary. My parents rebuked me for being such a rake, And spending my time in such frolicsome ways, But I ne'er could forget the good nature of Jane, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. My parents had reared me to shake and to mow, To plough and to harrow, to reap and to sow. Me heart being too airy to drop it so low, I set out on high speculation. On paper and parchment they taught me to write, In Euclid and Grammar they opened my eyes, And in Multiplication in truth I was bright, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. If I chance for to go to the town of Rathkeale, The girls all round me do flock on the square. Some offer me apple and others sweet cakes, and treats me unknown to their parents, There is one from Askeaton and one from the Pike, Another from Arda, my heart was beguiled, Tho' being from the mountains her stockings are white, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. To quarrel for riches I ne'er was inclined, For the greatest of misers must leave them behind. But I'll purchase a cow that will never run dry, And I'll milk her by twisting her horn. John Damer of Shronel had plenty of gold, And Lord Devonshire's treasure is twenty times more, But he's laid on his back among nettles and stones, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. This old cow can be milked without clover or grass, For she's pampered with corn, sweet corn and hops. She'll be warm, s he'll be stout, she'll be free in her paps, And she'll milk without spancil or halter. The man that will drink it will cock his caubeen, And if anyone laughs there'll be wigs on the green, And the feeble old hag will get supple and free, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. There's some say I'm foolish and more say I'm wise, But being fond of the women I think is no crime, For the son of King David had ten hundred wives, And his wisdom was highly recorded. I'll take a good garden and live at my ease, And each woman and child can partake of the same, If there's war in the cabin, themselves they could blame, Agus fágaimíd siúd mar atá sé. But now for the future I think I'll get wise, And I'll marry all those women who acted so kind, Aye I'll marry them all on the morrow by and by, If the clergy agreed to the bargain. And when I'll be old and my soul be at rest, all those children and wives they could cry at my wake, And they all gathers round and they offers their prayers, To the Lord for the soul of their father.