One, two, three four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
All the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah!
Twas in the merry month of May, from me home I started,
Left the girls in Tuam, nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born