SULLIVAN'S JOHN

Oh, Sullivan's John, on the road you've gone
Far away from your native home.
You've gone with a tinker's daughter
Far along the road to roam.
Oh, Sullivan's John, now you won't stick it long
Till your belly will soon get slack
As you roam the road with a heavy load
And a toolbox on your back.

There's a hairy ass fair in the County Clare
In a place they call Spancil Hill
Where my brother James got a rap of the hames [harness]
And poor Paddy they tried to kill.
They loaded him up in an ass and cart
All along the road to roam.
Bad luck to the day I went away
To join with the tinker's band.

This is from memory; maybe there's more to add.