I wish I was in Carrick, Fergus, only for nights in Ballyground. I would swim over the deepest ocean, the deepest ocean, to be by your side. But the sea is wide and I can't swim over, nor have I the wings to fly. If I could find me a handy boatman to ferry me over to my love and I. My childhood days bring back sad reflections of happy times spent so long ago. My boyhood friends and my own relations have all passed on now like melting snow. I spend my days in endless roving, soft as the grass and my bed is free. Oh, to be home now in Carrick, Fergus, on the long road down to the salty sea. And in Kilkenny it is reported on marble stones as black as ink. With gold and silver I did support her, but I'll sing no more now till I get a drink. For I'm drunk today and I'm rarely sober, a handsome rover from town to town. Oh, but I'm sick now and my days are numbered, so come all you young men and lay me down. www.mooji.org