The Leaving of Mullingar - Rapalje

I walk through this city a stranger

In the land I can never call home

I curse the sad notion across me

In my search of my fortune I roam

I’m weary of working and drinking

My weeks wages left in the bar

And God it’s a shame

For to use a friend’s name

Just to beg for the price of a jar

I remember that bright April morning

When I left home to travel afar

But to work 'till you’re dead

For a room and a bed

It’s not the reason I left Mullingar

This London’s a city of heartbreak

On a Friday there’s friends by the score

But when the pay’s finished on Monday

A friend’s not a friend anymore

For the working day seems never ending

From the shovel and pick there’s no break

And when you’re not working, you’re spending

The fortune you left home to make

So those who come here to find fortune

And come home to tell us the tale

Each morning the broadway is crowded

With many the thousands who fail

So young men of Ireland take warning

In London you never will find

That gold at the end of the rainbow

For you might just have left it behind