My name is John O'Reilly and my father worked the fields In the hills of old Kilarny where I helped him turn the wheels My arms grew hard as iron for a boy of 17 And I used my fists for gambling in those wet Kilarny streets Well the ship left for America and I brought my pack aboard Said goodbye to my dear Ireland said a prayer to my dear Lord But I fought those sorry guineas in the kitchen they called hell Well I fought them for their dollar and those guineas paid me well Fair thee well fair dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return Well I fought in New York City and I fought the Jersey shore My gut stayed full of whiskey and my bed stayed full of whores Well they called my right a cannonball and my left they called the same And I left em' all lyin' half in blood and half in shame Well I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man Well I said it could be done but only for another two And he smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe Fair thee well fair dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return Well they rang the bell two times before I let him have my nose And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed Then I let loose a right that they still talk about today For that guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way They covered every dock and every port there on the coast Looking for that double crosser who had turned into a ghost But I was on a train my friend that rode the other way And I'll sail from California back to Dublin one fine day Fair thee well fair dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return Fair thee well fair dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return