My name is John O'Reilly    And my father worked the fields   In the hills of old Kilarny   Where I helped him turn the wheels   My arms grew hard as iron for a boy of 17   And I used my fists for gambling in those wet Kilarny streets      Well the ship left for America and I brought my pack aboard   Said goodbye to my dear Ireland said a prayer to my dear Lord   I fought those sorry guineas in the kitchen they called hell   I fought them for their dollar and those guineas paid me well      Chorus   Fair thee well fair Dover   Fair thee well your seasons turn   For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return   The day of my return      I fought in New York City and I fought the Jersey shore   My gut stayed full of whiskey and my bed stayed full of whores   They called my right a cannonball and my left they called the same   I left em' all lyin' half in blood and half in shame      I met a man on '32 and he stuck out his hand   And he offered me a thousand if I'd fall before his man   I said it could be done but only for another two   He smiled at me and nodded as I stuck it in my shoe      Chorus   Fair thee well fair Dover   Fair thee well your seasons turn   For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return   The day of my return      They rang the bell two times before I let him have my nose   And I let him work my left until my eye was swollen closed   Then I let loose a right that they still talk about today   For that guinea didn't know that I had bet the other way      They covered every dock and every port there on the coast   Looking for that double crosser who had turned into a ghost   But I was on a train my friend that rode the other way   And i'll sail from California back to Dublin one fine day      Chorus   Fair thee well fair Dover   Fair thee well your seasons turn   For my pockets will be jingling on the day of my return   The day of my return