(Traditional - Arr. GBS / Benoit / Guinchard)      Its of an Irishman I'm going to tell you   Free from Ireland sailed away   Where he was to he was not contended   Made up his mind for to go away       Early next morning the ship was sailing   Queenstown harbour, Cobh of Cork   Eight long days he was sailing over   Till he landed in New York       Up the street young Paddy wandered   Each big building caught his eye   Looking up at a big shop window,   A bottle of whisky he did spy      Into the bar young Paddy entered   Called for a drink, without delay   Give me a drop of that Irish Whisky,   Four big coppers I will pay      The landlord he jumped over the counter   "Pay me down that bill", he said   Paddy up with a big shillelagh   Laid him on the floor right dead       So the Yankees they came running   When they heard about the row   Trying to kill poor Irish Paddy,   Shouting out, "Where is he now?!"       Irishmen they followed after   Following without delay   Each of them with a big shillelagh,   Made the Yankees run away       May God's success to his Irish people   Many's the country they have roamed   But their courage is far bolder   When they're far away from home