Poor old Dicey Reilly, she has taken to the sup,
Ah, poor old Dicey Reilly, she will never give it up,
For it's off each morning to the pop,
Then she goes in for a little drop,
But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly.

She'll walk along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air,
Ah, then it's down by Summerhill and at the people stare,
She'll say, "It's nearly half past one,
So I'll go in for another little one",
For the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly.