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作曲 : Traditional Song |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa. |
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Mrs. McGrath, the sargent said, |
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Would you like to make a soldier out of your son Ted? |
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With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat, |
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Now Mrs. McGrath, wouldn't you like that? |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Now Mrs. McGrath lived on the seashore |
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For the space of seven long years or more, |
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Till a great big ship came sail into the bay, |
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Says, It's my son Ted, will you clear the way, |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Oh captain, dear, where have you been, |
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Have you been sailing in the Meditereen, |
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Have you any news of my son Ted, |
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Is the poor boy living or is he dead? |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Then, up steps Ted, without any legs, |
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And in their place was some wooden pegs. |
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She kissed him a dozen times or two, |
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Saying, Holy Moses, is it you, |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Now was you drunk, or was you blind, |
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When you left your two fine legs behind, |
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Or was it from walking by the sea, |
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Took your two fine legs from the knees away? |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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No, I was not drunk, and I was not blind |
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When I left my two fine legs behind, |
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A cannon ball on the fifth of May, |
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Took my two fine legs from the knees away, |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Oh Teddy, my boy, the widow cried, |
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Your two fine legs were your mother's pride. |
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The stumps of a tree won't do at all, |
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Why didn't you run from the cannon ball? |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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So, if I had me boy again, |
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I'd never let him go to fight the King of Spain, |
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I'd rather have me son as he used to be, |
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Than you King of France and your whole navy, |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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All foreign wars, I do proclaim, |
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Between Don Juan and the King of Spain, |
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By heavens I'll make them rue the time, |
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They swept the legs from a child of mine, |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa |
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Wi your too-ri-aa, folly diddle-aa |
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Too-ri, oo-ri, oo-ri-aa. |
