My dad kept a pig, and my mother sold whisky:
My uncle was rich, but would never be asy,
Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.
Oh! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
My dear little Sheelah I thought would run crazy,
When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey.
I march'd from Kilkenny, and as I was thinking
On Sheelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking;
But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,
For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey.