Classic Poem

In eighteen hundred and forty-one
I put my corduroy breeches on,
I put my corduroy breeches on,
To work upon the railway.

For-o-my-or-o-my-or-o-my-ay,
For-o-my-or-o-my-or-o-my-ay,
For-o-my-or-o-my-or-o-my-ay,
To work upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-two
I left the old world for the new,
The emigrationists put me through,
To work upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-three,
'Twas first I met sweet Biddy McGee,
And an iligant wife she's been to me
While working on the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-four,
It left me where I was before;
Bad cess to luck that brought me o'er
To work upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-five,
Dan O'Connell was then alive,
And Teddy McGuinness to my surprise
Was working on the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-six,
I got meself in the divils' own fix
For callin' some gents a parcel o' micks,
As works upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-seven,
Sweet Biddy McGee has gone to heaven,
If she left one child she left eleven
To work upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and forty-eight,
I learned to take my whiskey straight.
'Tis a beautiful drink and can't be bate
For working on the railway.

In eighteen hundred and fifty-two,
My earthly career is almost through,
And there's nothing on earth that I can do
But work upon the railway.

In eighteen hundred and fifty-three,
The imps and the divil they took me
To work upon the machinery
In the Sub-terranean Railway.