TARRY FLYNN
(Healy/Kavanagh)

Is there a man that cares
That I might be spared
Such a life of drudgery
Of digging clay
Tossing cocks of hay
Wishing all the day
That somehow I could be free

CHORUS
O you are a rascal, Tarry Flynn
You're writing poetry instead of digging drills
Strolling around the fields all day
Won't you ever work or won't you ever stay?

O mother, can't you see
That the farming life
It was never meant for me
To reap and sow
I don't want to know
But to Dublin go
For that's where my life should be.

CHORUS

Don't come to say goodbye
Mothers always cry
Shake my hand and set me free
When fame has come
To my Dublin home
Maybe then you'll come there and visit me.

CHORUS

Shoh slaynt,

Bobby Bob

---

Note from Joe Offer (27 May 2013): I have received an e-mail from Shay Healy, confirming that he wrote this song. He says, "'Tarry Flynn,' [WAS] written to the air of An Fallagin Muineach (The Munster Cloak)." I don't know if the additional attribution to novelist Patrick Kavanagh is correct or appropriate, so I'll leave it until that can be clarified.
Contact information: Shay Healy, Oisin/ Bardis Music, 9 Prince of Wales Terrace, Ballsbridge, Dublin 4

Here's what I hear on the Johnny McEvoy recording, which is almost the same as what's posted above:

TARRY FLYNN
(Healy/Kavanagh)

Is there a man that cares
That I might be spared
Such a life of drudgery,
Of digging clay,
Tossing cocks of hay,
Wishing all the day
That somehow I could be free?

CHORUS
O you're a rascal, Tarry Flynn,
You're writing poetry instead of digging drills;
Strolling around the fields all day,
Won't you ever work, or won't you ever stay?

O mother, can't you see
That the farmer's life,
It was never meant for me;
To reap and sow
I don't want to know,
But to Dublin go,
For that's where my life should be.

CHORUS

Don't come to say goodbye,
Mothers always cry;
Shake my hand and set me free.
When fame has come
To my Dublin home,
Maybe then you'll come there someday and visit me.

CHORUS