Oh who will plough the fields, and who will sell the corn?
And who will wash the sheep now, and keep them neatly shorn?
And the stack that's in the haggard, unthreshed it may remain,
Since Johnny's gone a-thrashing the dirty King of Spain.

Oh the girls in the bonhoe in sorrow may retire,
And the piper and his bellows may go home and blow the fire,
For Johnny, lovely Johnny, is sailing oer the main,
Along with other patriots, to fight the King of Spain.

Oh the boys will sorely miss him, when moneymore comes round
And they'll grieve that their brave captain is nowhere to be found
And the peelers they must stand idle all against their will and reign
Since the valiant boy who gave them work now pells the King of Spain

At wakes or hurling matches, your likes we'll never see
Until you return again to us, a storin o mo chroi
And won't you trouble the buchainnes who showed us great disdain
Because our eyes were not as bright as those you'll meet in Spain

And if cruel fate will not permit our Johnny to return,
His dreadful loss we Bantry girls will never cease to mourn.
We'll resign ourselves to our sad lot, and we'll die in grief and pain,
Since Johnny's died for freedom in the foreign land of Spain.