Whisky Youre The Devil

Now brave boys we'll run for march, not to Portugal or 
Spain,
The drums are beatin', banners flyin', the devil at home 
we'll find tonight.

Chorus :
Love, fare thee well,
With me ti-ther-ee-i doo-dle-um-a-day,
With me ti-ther-ee-i doo-dle-um-a-day,
Me right-fol toor-a-lad-die o, there's whisky in the jar.

Whisky, you're the devil, you're leading me astray,
Over hills and mountins and to Americay,
You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, you're spunkier than 
tay,
O, whisky you're me darlin', drunk or sober.

The French are fighting boldly, men are dyin' hot and 
cowardly,
Give every man his turn of powder and firelock on his 
shoulder.

Says the mother : "Do not wrong me, don't take my daughter 
from me,
For if you do I will torment you and after that me ghost 
will haunt you".