Sullivan's John, to the road you've gone, far away from your native home

You're gone with the tinker's daughter, far along the road to roam

Arrah, Sullivan's John, you won't stick it long, till your belly will soon get slack

You'll be roamin' the road with a mighty load and a toodle box on your back

I met Katie Coffee with her neat baby behind on her back strapped on

She'd an old ash plant twirled in her hand for to drive her donkey on

Inquiring every farmer's house for along the road she passed

Oh, it's where would she get an old pot to mend, or it's where would she swap an ass

There's a hairy ass fair in the County Clare, in a place they call Spancil Hill

Where my brother James got a rap to the hames, and poor Paddy they tried to kill

They loaded him up on an old ass and car while Kate and Big Mary stood by

Oh, bad cess to the day that I went away for to join with a tinker's band

You're a Sullivan's John, to the road you've gone, far away from your native home

You're gone with the tinker's daughter, far along the road to roam

Arrah, Sullivan's John, you won't stick it long, till your belly will soon get slack

You'll be roamin' the road with a mighty load and a toodle box on your back