Welcome Poor Paddy Home
I am a true born Irishman, I'll never deny what I am.
I was born in sweet Tipperary town, three thousand miles away.
Hooray, me boys, hooray, no more do I wish for to roam,
for the sun it will shine in the harvest time, to welcome poor Paddy home.
The girls they were gay and frisky, they'd take you by the hand,
sayin' Jimmy mo chroí, will you come with me, to welcome this stranger home.
Then in came the foreign nation, and scattered all over the land.
The horse and the cow, the pig, sheep and sow fell into the strangers' hands.
The Scotsman can boast of his thistle, and England can boast of the rose,
But Paddy can boast of the emerald isle, where the dear little shamrock grows.