OFF TO PHILADELPHIA.
Adapted from an old Irish melody by Battison Haynes.
My name is Paddy Leary, from a sphot called Tipperary,
The hearts of all the girls I am a thorn in;
But before the break of morn, faith! 'tis they'll be all forlorn,
For I'm off to Philadelphia in the mornin'.
Wid my bundle on my shoulder, faith! there's no man could be boulder,
I'm lavin' dear ould Ireland widout warnin';
For I lately took the notion for to cross the briny ocean,
I shtart for Philadelphia in the mornin'.
There's a girt called Kate Malone, whom I'd hoped to call my own,
And to see my little cabin floor adornin',
But my heart is sad and weary, how can she be Missis Leary,
If I shtart for Philadelphia in the mornin'?- Chorus.
' When they told me I must lave the place, I tried to keep a cheerful face,
I For to show my heart's deep sorrow I was scornin';
But the tears will surely blind me for the friends I lave behind me.
When I shtart for Philadelphia in the mornin'.
But tho' my bundle's on my shoulder, and there's no man could be boulder,
Though I'm lavin' now the shpot that I was born in,
Yet some day I'll take the notion to come back across the ocean,
To my home in dear old Ireland in the mornin'.