Mrs. McGrath

"O Mrs. McGrath," the sergeant said "Would you like a soldier of your son Ted? With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat Now Mrs. McGrath would you like that?" With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa Now Mrs. McGrath lived on the shore And after seven years or more She spied a ship come into the bay With her son from far away "O Captain dear where have ye been? You been sailing the Mediterranean? Have you news from my son Ted? Is he living or is he dead?" With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa Then came Ted without any legs And in their place two wooden pegs She kissed him a dozen times or two And said, "My God Ted is it you"? Now were ye drunk or were ye blind When ye left yer two fine legs behind? Or was it walking upon the sea That wore your two fine legs away?" With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa Now I wasn't drunk and I wasn't blind When I left my two fine legs behind A cannonball on the fifth of May Tore my two fine legs away "My, Teddy boy," the widow cried "Yer two fine legs were yer mother's pride Stumps of a tree wouldn't do at all Why didn't ye run from the cannon ball?" With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa "All foreign wars I do proclaim Live on blood and a mother's pain I'd rather have my son as he used to be Than the King of America And his whole Navy!" With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa With a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, with a too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa --- Mrs. McGrath - Bruce Springsteen