(Galleon - Traditional)

With me whack fol the do,
Fol de diddlely idle de.

As I went down to Galway town to seek for recreation,
On the 17th of August my mind being elevated,
There was multitudes assembled with,
Their tickets at the station,
My mind began to dazzle as we were going to see the races.

There was passengers from Limerick, and men from Tipperary,
The boys from Connemara and the Clare unmarried maidens,
There were people from Cork City,
Who were loyal, true and faithful,
They brought home the Fenian prisoners,
Who were dying in foreign nations.

It's there you'll see the pipers and the fiddlers competing,
The nimble footed dancers and they tripping o'er the daisies,
There was others crying cigars and lights,
And bills of all the races,
And the colours of the jockeys,
And they mounted on their horses.

It's there you'll see the jockeys,
And they mounted out so stately,
The blue, the pink, the orange and green,
The colours of our nation,
When the bell was rung for starting,
All the horses seemed impatient,
It seemed they never stood on ground,

Their speed was so amazing.
There was half a million people there,
Of all denominations,
The Catholics, the Protestants, the Jews, the Presbyterians,
There was yet no animosity no matter what persuasion,
But failte and hospitality,
Introduce some fresh acquaintance.

And now my throat is dry and it's time to end my song,
Success within the sport of Kings,
Since first my song begun,
I've been to all the races and I've seen all the places,
But I know that I'll return again,
To see the Galway races.