Sorry,
       This is the marine recruit song that I was thinking of.

   Dearest Captain McGranis (mo gradh?) I am going to list,
Will you lend me the loan of your hand in my fist?
I am going to Dublin, is this the right way?
I set off last night, to get there yesterday.

The first they pressed me, and sent me to sea,
It was in the cold winter when making of hay,
They sent me on board of the jumping Torbay,
Bad luck to her guns, they did fright me away.

The boatswain says Paddy, what brought you here?
There's no grass to make hay, 'tis a rough time of year.
Blood an' 'ouns, then cries Paddy, I wish I was gone,
For your small wooden kingdom, I don't understand.

The first thing they gave me it was a red coat,
With two straps of leather made of the same cloth,
With a gun by my side, and a sword in my hand,
To fight in the wars that ne'er did begin.

The next thing they gave me it was a long gun,
And up to the trigger I fixed my fore thumb,
No sooner I'd pulled she began for to smoke,
And she hit my poor shoulder a damnable stroke.

The next thing they gave me it was a brown sack,
Where I was obliged to snooze on my back,
And there I had laid till the clock struck one bell,
When the bloody Marines cried all's well.

The next thing I heard, it was a great noise,
Boatswain at the hatchway, calls all hands a-hoy,
And Jack with his lantern comes tumbling down,
Crying shew me a leg or I'll cut you all down.

The Serjeant he cries, tumble up you marines,
You scarce can get time to keep yourselves clean,
With grumbling and growling and making sad moan,
With pulling and hawling the damned holy stone.

What a damnable place is this Newcastle,
Us fair men of London can't do as we please,
Was I in dear Dublin amongst the green bushes,
I would dance over hedges, unto the green rushes.