O'Reilly's Daughter
 
[ C ]

As I sat by O'Reilly's bar,
Listening to his tales of blood and slaughter,
Thoughts came running through my mind
That I might shag O'Reilly's daughter.

Chorus:
Fiddley-eye-oh, fiddley-eye-aye,
Fiddley-eye-oh for the One-Ball Reilly,
Rig-a-dig-dig, balls and all,
Rub-a-dub-dub, shag all.

I grabbed that maiden by the hair,
Threw my left leg up and over,
Shagged and shagged and shagged some more,
Shagged until the fun was over.

There came a  knocking at the door;
Who should be there but her goddamned father,
Two horses postols in his hands,
Looking for the one who shagged his daughter.

I grabbed that bastard by the balls,
Shoved his head in a pail of water,
Shoved those pistols up his ass,
Went right back and shagged his daughter.

As I go walking down the street,
People shout from every corner,
"There goes the goddamned son of a bitch,
The one who shagged O'Reilly's daughter."

	Rowland Berthoff, professor of history, emeritus, Washington University at St. Louis, sang this at Oberlin College, Ohio, circa 1940; and then in the U.S. Army, from 1942 to 1946.

[ D ]

Sitting in O'Riley's bar one day,
Drinking whiskey, passing water,
Suddenly a thought came to my mind,
I'd like to fuck O'Riley's daughter.

Chorus: 
Giddy-I-A, giddy-I-O,
Giddy-I-A, for the one-eyed Riley,
Rough 'em up, stuff'em up, balls and all,
Play it on your old bass drum.

Her hair was black, her eyes were blue,
The colonel, the major, and the captain sought her,
The regimental goat and drummer boy too,
But they never had a fuck with O'Riley's daughter.

Lack O'Flanagan is my name,
I'm the king of copulation,
Drinking beer my claim to fame,
Fucking women my occupation.

Walking through the town one day,
Who should I meet but O'Riley's daughter,
Never a word to her did say,
But, "Don't you think we really oughter?"

Up the stairs and into bed,
There I cocked my left leg over,
Marianne was smiling then,
Smiling still when the fuck was over. 

Fucked her till her tits were flat,
Filled her up with soapy water,
She won't get away with that,
If she doesn't have twins then she really oughter.

Suddenly footsteps on the stairs,
Old man O'Riley bent on slaughter,
Bloody great pistol in his hand,
Looking for the one who fucked his daughter.

He fired the pistol at my head,
Missed me by an inch and a quarter,
Hit his daughter Marianne,
Right in the place where she passes water.

I grabbed O'Riley by the hair,
Shoved his head in a bucket of water,
Rammed his pistol up his ass,
A damn sight quicker than I fucked his daughter.

Old man O'Riley's dead and gone,
Shall we bury him?  Not fucking likely,
We'll nail him to the shithouse door,
And there we'll bugger him twice nightly.

Come you virgins, maidens fair,
Answer me quick and true, not slyly,
Do you want it straight and square,
Or the way I gave it to one-eyed Riley?

Marianne's dead but not forgotten,
Let's dig her up and fuck her rotten!


As "One-Eyed Riley," this is Number 190 in Paul Woodford's large collection published in "Hash Hymns II" (Honolulu, Hawaii, 1994).  Woodford gives no indication how the last, inbcomplete stanza is sung -- or who "Marianne" might be.

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