The Town of Mullingar

It was on a sultry summer's day and tired from working at the hay
I lay and watched a regiment marching to a foreign war
,I don't know how it came about, I must have slept beyond a doubt
I thought I took the shilling in the town of Mullingar.

Scarce had I drawn my belt to place when all my dark and dire disgrace
Burst on me with a bitterness that left my mouth ajar!
For who would think a decent boy, a son to honest Mike Molloy
Would join his countries enemies, disgracing Mullingar!

Then spoke the sergeant sharp to me, "You might as well contented be,
For you joined and took the shilling free at Martin Hogan's bar,
And for those you leave behind you might as well make up your mind,
You've gone and put your foot in it today in Mullingar.

'Twas then I wept in rage and pain, but all my protests were in vain,
We marched through Monastrevan with a general in a car,
As we came to Wexford town straight to the transport we went down,
And sailed away for India - my sorrow Mullingar.

The heat was dreadful overhead, we fought till all were nearly dead,
From Sultjah through the Khyber till we came to Kandahar,
Those Afaghans were a savage lot, they whacked into us hard and hot,
I lost a leg by cannon shot and moaned for Mullingar.

As on the bloody field I lay in deep dispair I could not pray,
But cursed the day listed and the joy of life did mar,
When someone near me raised a shout, I woke right up and looked about,
Thank God, 'twas but a nightmare - I was home in Mullingar.
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