The Irish Rovers Paddy on the Turnpike song lyrics

He's Paddy on the turnpike, the man with the muddy boots

The boy with the drum and the flute and the gun that never learned to shoot

He's a poet and a chancer, and he rings the freedom bell

To preach the Gospel, half-posessed

In a bushcart bound for Hell

Paddy on the turnpike, and he's tearing through the land

A drink o' rum and a Thompson gun and a Bible in his hand

Don't be talkin' to him, for you'll never be the same

Before you know you'll go and join his patriotic game!

He's Paddy out in Boston with whiskey in his hand

He's a rover, he's a joker, and the son of a highwayman

He's a sailor down in Melbourne and a priest in Bethlehem

He'll give you his all, if you happen to fall, he'll knock you down again!

Paddy on the turnpike, and he's tearing through the land

A drink o' rum and a Thompson gun and a Bible in his hand

Don't be talkin' to him, for you'll never be the same

Before you know you'll go and join his patriotic game!

HEY!

You'll find him in the jungle, teachin' boys the art o' war

You'll hear him in Calcutta reading Kipling at the bar,

He's your man for any season, both feet and his gun,

He'll read your stars and he'll show you scars if you're buyin' in the pub

Forever, 'til tomorrow, good as gold, it's made of brass

You can trust him with your life, or your secrets 'til the last

But you'd better lock your women up, or hide your whiskey neat

For he's Paddy on the turnpike, that you'll never want to meet!

Paddy on the turnpike, and he's tearing through the land

A drink o' rum and a Thompson gun and a Bible in his hand

Don't be talkin' to him, for you'll never be the same

Before you know you'll go and join his patriotic game!

HEY!

WHOO!

YEAH-HEAH-HEAH!

Whoo!