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In eighteen hundred and forty-wan I put me cord'roy breeches on, I put me cord'roy breeches on, To work upon the railway.
Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-re-i-re-ay, To work upon the railway.
In eighteen hundred and forty-two,
I left the ould world for the new,
Bad cess to the luck that brought me through,
To work upon the railway.
When we left Ireland to come here, And spend our latter days in cheer, Our bosses they did drink strong beer, And Pat worked on the railway.
Our contractor's name it was Tom King, He kept a store to rob the men,