Текст песни Off to Dublin in the Green - The Dubliners
                                                Oh, 
                                                    I 
                                                am 
                                                    a 
                                                merry 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                and 
                                                    I 
                                                plough 
                                                the 
                                                fields 
                                                all 
                                                day
 
                                    
                                
                                                Till 
                                                    a 
                                                sudden 
                                                thought 
                                                came 
                                                to 
                                                my 
                                                head, 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                should 
                                                roam 
                                                away
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                I'm 
                                                sick 
                                                and 
                                                tired 
                                                of 
                                                slavery 
                                                since 
                                                the 
                                                day 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                was 
                                                born
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                I'm 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                join 
                                                the 
                                                IRA 
                                                and 
                                                I'm 
                                                off 
                                                tomorrow 
                                                morn
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                we're 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green, 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bayonets 
                                                flash 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                rifles 
                                                crash
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                rattle 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                Thompson 
                                                gun
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                me 
                                                pick 
                                                and 
                                                spade, 
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                me 
                                                plough
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                me 
                                                horse 
                                                and 
                                                yoke, 
                                                    I 
                                                no 
                                                longer 
                                                need 
                                                them 
                                                now
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                me 
                                                Mary, 
                                                she's 
                                                the 
                                                girl 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                adore
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                    I 
                                                wonder 
                                                if 
                                                she'll 
                                                think 
                                                of 
                                                me 
                                                when 
                                                she'll 
                                                hear 
                                                the 
                                                rifles 
                                                roar
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                we're 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green, 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bayonets 
                                                flash 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                rifles 
                                                crash
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                rattle 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                Thompson 
                                                gun
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                when 
                                                the 
                                                war 
                                                is 
                                                over 
                                                and 
                                                dear 
                                                old 
                                                Ireland 
                                                is 
                                                free
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                take 
                                                her 
                                                to 
                                                the 
                                                church 
                                                to 
                                                wed 
                                                and 
                                                    a 
                                                rebel's 
                                                wife 
                                                she'll 
                                                be
 
                                    
                                
                                                Well, 
                                                some 
                                                men 
                                                fight 
                                                for 
                                                silver 
                                                and 
                                                some 
                                                men 
                                                fight 
                                                for 
                                                gold
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                the 
                                                IRA 
                                                are 
                                                fighting 
                                                for 
                                                the 
                                                land 
                                                that 
                                                the 
                                                Freestaters 
                                                stole
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                we're 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green, 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bayonets 
                                                flash 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                rifles 
                                                crash
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                rattle 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                Thompson 
                                                gun
 
                                    
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