My name is John O'Halloran, I am eighty-one years old,
I left my boyhood days behind to search of fame and gold,
I left my home in Tralee town in my twenty-second year,
I would dig the gold on England's shores and I'd make my fortune here.

Oh, the weary months in search of work, I tramped through street and road,
A shake-me-down in Camden town, it was my first abode,
No friendly glance to cheer my heart, no man to take my hand
No easy gold, only rain and cold in this God forsaken land.

Go down the trench proud Irishman, for you are strong and big,
Take your shovel by the neck, spit on your hand and dig,
Tear out the guts from Mother Earth, from the dawn till fading light,
In the nearest pub you'll drink your sub and hate and love and fight.

I loved a girl in Liverpool, a sweet one from Mayo,
I've known some girls from Tiger Bay and their teeth like virgin snow,
I'd have my food in small shebeens, I've drunk the porter black,
A dirty bed where I'd laid my head and the lice crawled up my back.

My bones are getting weary now and my shoulders they are bent,
My once black hair is grey with care and my money is all spent,
Soon Sergeant Death will call me home and he'll take me by the hand,
Far from Tralee town lay my body down far from my native land.