Trip To Jerusalem / Two Reels: The Mullingar Races; The Crooked Road - Christy Moore

I’m a stranger here from Ireland’s shore;

I’ve been on the road six months or

more

Hikin', workin', travel in style;

I’m a vagabond from Erin’s Isle

My sunburned thumb stuck up in the air, many’s the lift from here to there

Cars, buses, vans and trains, in the punishing heat, the snow and the rain

Whack fol the diddle fol the diro day

Whack fol the diddle fol the daro

Mrs. Dolan, your son he isn’t workin'

I came from Dublin to Jerusalem town, had a drink or two on the journey down

At a railway station called Gare du Nord, I missed my train through garglin'

hard

Three days later in Napoli, on a Turkish boat I sailed the sea

Slept in a hot hole down below, travelin' tourist class, you know

When the Promised Land came into sight, the customs man gave me a fright

«How much money have you got with you, Joe?»

I bluffed and said, «Fifty pounds or so.»

He said, «Shalom,» I said, «Good day.»

Grabbed me guitar, got fast away

Down to the dessert then I went, digging up history and livin' in a tent

It was in the Gulf of Aqaba, I met some Paddies and we had a fleadh

Danced through streets of Eilat Town, sang Sean South of Garryowen

I was travelin', I don’t know, you pack your gear, get up and go

Leave the crack for another bout, could damn well do with a pint of stout