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 Rome
Or a Sullivan's John,
you won't stick it long
Till your belly will soon get slack
You'll be roaming the road
with a mighty load
And a tootle box on your back
I met Katie Coffey with her neat bobby
Behind on her back strapped on
She'd an old -ash clunk held in her hand
For to drive her donkey on
Inquiring every farmer's house
far along the road she passed
Oh, it's where would she get
an old pot to mend
Or it's where would she
sew up an ass
There's a hairy ass fair in
the County Clare
In a place they call Spansteel Hill
Where my brother James got a rap
Of a Hames and poor Paddy
they tried to kill
They loaded him up on an old Aston car
While Kip and Big Mary stood by
Oh, that's as to the day that I went away
At a joint with the Tinkers 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 Rome
You're a Sullivan's John
You won't stick it long
Till your belly will soon get slack
You'll be roaming the road
with a mighty load
And a tootle box on your back