The County Roscommon in hailstone and rain,
I was crossing the fields on my way to the train,
When I met a cailín and said she, ‘Do you know,
What’s the shortest shortcut into Old Ballymoe?’

Said I, ‘Cailín oh, who led you astray.
I think I’ll go with you, and show you the way.’
Says she, ‘I’m afraid for, you I don’t know,
You might kiss me between here and Old Ballymoe.

Do you think I’d walk with you, you moron, garrough,
I don’t like your looks or your cludarín brogues.
You’re young and your handsome, but dear knows your slow,
And I don’t want a dead one, in Old Ballymoe.’

Says I, ‘I am noted for strength and for looks.
And my brains aren’t bad, they have mastered the books.
If you say yes, to be married we’ll go,
And forever be happy, in Old Ballymoe.’

She began for to laugh till I thought she would choke.
Said she, ‘You poor cluasán, I’ll tell you a joke.
Step out of my way now, for I have to go,
I’ve a husband and six kids in Old Ballymoe!’