In the hills of old Kilarny Where I helped him turn the wheels My arms grew hard as iron for a boy of 17 And I used my fists for gambling in those wet Kilarny streets Well the ship left for America and I brought my pack aboard Said goodbye to my dear Ireland said a prayer to my dear Lord I fought those sorry guineas in the kitchen they called hell I fought them for their dollar and those guineas paid me well Chorus Fair thee well fair Dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return I fought in New York City and I fought the Jersey shore My gut stayed full of whiskey and my bed stayed full of whores They called my right a cannonball and my left they called the same I left em' all lyin' half in blood and half in shame I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man I said it could be done but only for another two He smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe Chorus Fair thee well fair Dover Fair thee well your seasons turn For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return The day of my return They rang the bell two times before I let him have my nose And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed Then I let loose a right that they still talk about today For that guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way They covered every dock and every port there on the coast Looking for that double crosser who had turned into a ghost But I was on a train my friend that rode the other way And i'll sail from California back to Dublin one fine day