Seamus Moore - The Jolly Farmer
I am a jolly farmer, I've been farming all me lifeI live on 40 acres with me parents and me wife
I have three delightful children and the oldest one is four
We're all content and happy, who could ask for any more
But me cousins up in Dublin, they won't leave us alone
On the telly and the radio you can hear the people moan
They want to tax the farmer and some of them declares
The farmers down the country are a bunch of millionaires
Oh it's grand to be a farmer till the hens refuse to lay
And the rain that falls in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely herd of cows
And the quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating, with nothing guaranteed
The farmer has his worries and he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further, you'll drive him 'round the bend
The farmer grows potatoes and he saves them from the blight
He drives them up to Dublin, sure he's travellin’ half the night
His profits can be paltry when he pays for all the trips
But he's happy for the city folk, they can have a bag of chips
The pigeons ates his cabbage and the crows devour his wheat
There's a levy on the creamery and another on his beet
When he gets a spell of sunshine his grass may turn brown
And the carrot fly gets busy on his carrots in Clonown
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rain that falls in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely herd of cows
And the quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating, with nothing guaranteed
The farmer has his worries and he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further, you'll drive him 'round the bend
Me cousins up in Dublin have a job from 9 to 5
But the poor old farmers working every minute he's alive
When the cow require a midwife or the turkeys start to fight
He has to don his overalls in the middle of the night
Well Dublin can be Heaven when you stroll in Stephen's Green
Sure there’s good and bad, they’re everywhere and there's plenty in between
We need each other badly if we're hoping to survive
So let’s learn to live together and thank God we're all alive
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rain that falls in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely herd of cows
And the quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating, with nothing guaranteed
The farmer has his worries and he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further, you'll drive him 'round the bend
Written by:
John Duggan
Publisher:
Lyrics © BARDIS MUSIC, USA ATTN: PETER BARDON
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