Текст песни The Merry Ploughboy - The Wolfe Tones
                                                Oh 
                                                    I 
                                                am 
                                                    a 
                                                merry 
                                                ploughboy,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                    I 
                                                plough 
                                                the 
                                                feilds 
                                                all 
                                                day,
 
                                    
                                
                                                ′Till 
                                                    a 
                                                sudden 
                                                thought 
                                                came 
                                                to 
                                                my 
                                                mind,
 
                                    
                                
                                                That 
                                                    I 
                                                should 
                                                roam 
                                                away.
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                im 
                                                tired 
                                                of 
                                                this 
                                                civilian 
                                                life,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Since 
                                                the 
                                                day 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                was 
                                                born,
 
                                    
                                
                                                So 
                                                im 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                join 
                                                the 
                                                IRA,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                im 
                                                off 
                                                tomorrow 
                                                morn'.
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                were 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bay′nets 
                                                clash,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                rifles 
                                                crash,
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                echo 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                thompson 
                                                gun.
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                my 
                                                pick 
                                                and 
                                                spade,
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'll 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                my 
                                                plough,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh 
                                                ill 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                my 
                                                horse 
                                                and 
                                                yoke,
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                no 
                                                more 
                                                I′ll 
                                                need 
                                                them 
                                                now.
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                    I 
                                                leave 
                                                aside 
                                                my 
                                                MAry,
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                is 
                                                the 
                                                girl 
                                                    I 
                                                do 
                                                adore,
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                    I 
                                                wonder 
                                                if,
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                thinks 
                                                of 
                                                me 
                                                when 
                                                she 
                                                hears 
                                                that 
                                                canon 
                                                roar.
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                we′re 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green, 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bay'nets 
                                                flash 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                riffles 
                                                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 
                                                I.R.A. 
                                                are 
                                                fighting 
                                                for 
                                                the 
                                                land 
                                                that 
                                                the 
                                                Saxons 
                                                stole.
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                we're 
                                                all 
                                                off 
                                                to 
                                                Dublin 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green, 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                helmets 
                                                glisten 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                sun
 
                                    
                                
                                                Where 
                                                the 
                                                bay′nets 
                                                flash 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                riffles 
                                                crash
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                the 
                                                rattle 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                Thompson 
                                                gun.
 
                                    
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