In the sweet county Limerick one cold winter's night
all the turf fires were burning when I saw the light
and a drunken old midwife went tipsy with joy
as she danced round the room with a slip of a boy
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'

Well when I was a gossoon of eight years old or so
With me turf and me primer to school I did go.
To a dusty old school house without any door,
Where lay the school master blind drunk on the floor

At the learning I wasn't such a genius I'm thinking,
But I soon beat the master entirely at drinking,
Not a wake or a wedding for ten miles around,
But meself in the corner was sure to be found.
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'

One Sunday the priest led me out from the altar
Saying you'll end your days with your neck in a halter;
And you'll dance a fine jig between heaven and hell
And his words they did frighten me the truth for to tell,

So the very next morning as the dawn it did break
I went down to the vestry the pledge for to take,
And there in that room sat them priests in a bunch
Round a big roaring fire drinkin' tumblers of punch,
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'

Well 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,
And I'll dance out me days drinking whiskey galore
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'
singin' 'bainne na mbo is an gamhna, and the Juice of the Barley for me.'