On a storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing
The spray hung like jewels in her hair
And the sea tore the rocks on the desolate landing
As though it had known she stood there;

For she has gone down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His boat sailed out last Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands;

Oh and white were the wavecaps and wild was their parting
Such is the glory of love
And she prayed to the gods both of men and of sailors
Not to cast their cruel nets on her man;

There's a school on a hill where the sons of dead sailors
Are led toward tempests and gales
And their god-given wings are clipped close to their bodies
And their eyes abound round with ship's sails

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger
High on seas or a mile underground
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger
And there's no other work to be found;

For she has gone down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His boat sailed out last Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.

Oh, have you heard the news, my Johnny?
Ch: One more day!
We're homeward bound tomorrow
Ch: One more day!
Only one more day, my Johnny
One more day!
Oh, rock and row me over,
One more day!

We're homeward bound to-morrow, Johnny,
We leave you without sorrow.

Can't you hear the old man snarling, Johnny ?
Can't you hear the capstan pawling?

Oh, heave and sight the anchor, Johnny,
Oh, heave and sight the anchor.

I'm bound away to leave you, Johnny,
But I will not deceive you.

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty one,
The Yankee war had just begun,
I put my corduroy breeches on,
Ch: To work upon the rail way,
the railway, I'm weary of the railway,
Oh, poor Paddy works on the railway!

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-two,
My corduroy breeches they were new;
I took my pick with a navvy's crew,
To work upon the railway.

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-three,
I sailed away beyond the sea;
I sailed away to Amerikee,
To work upon the railway.

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-four,
I landed on the American shore;
I had a pickaxe and nothing more,
To work upon the railway.