I am a jolly farmer, I've been farming all me life
I live on 40 acres with me parents and me wife
We've got two delightful children the eldest one is four
We're all content and happy and we ask for nothing more
But me cousins up in Dublin, they won't leave us alone
On the telly and the radio you can hear those people moan
They want to tax the farmers and some of them declares
That the farmers down the country are a bunch of millionaires
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
When the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
The farmer grows potatoes and saves them from the blight
Then he drives them up to Dublin and he's drivin' half the night
His profits may be paltry when he pays for all his trips
But he's happy for the city folks they can have their bags chips
The pigeons ates his cabbage and the crows devour his wheat
There's a levy on his creamery and another on his beet
When he gets a spell of sunshine his grass may turn brown
And the carrot fly gets busy on his carrots in Clonown
My cousin up in Dublin has a job from 9 to 5
But the poor old farmer's working every minute he's alive
When the cows require a midwife or the turkeys start to fight
He has to don his overalls in the middle of the night.
Oh Dublin can be heaven when you stroll in Stephen's Green
But the good and bad are everywhere and there's plenty in between
We need each other badly if we're hoping to survive
So let's learn to live together and thank God we're all alive
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk, the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
Ah sure, I don't know what we're going to do
Getting all these letters in the post
Mary, who's that car pulling up outside?
What? A briefcase?
Tell them I'm not here, tell them I'm up the field
I'm gone, I've no time for talkin
Brendan Shine - The Jolly Farmer Lyrics
Brendan Shine - The Jolly Farmer Lyrics
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I am a jolly farmer, I've been farming all me life
I live on 40 acres with me parents and me wife
We've got two delightful children the eldest one is four
We're all content and happy and we ask for nothing more
But me cousins up in Dublin, they won't leave us alone
On the telly and the radio you can hear those people moan
They want to tax the farmers and some of them declares
That the farmers down the country are a bunch of millionaires
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
When the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
The farmer grows potatoes and saves them from the blight
Then he drives them up to Dublin and he's drivin' half the night
His profits may be paltry when he pays for all his trips
But he's happy for the city folks they can have their bags chips
The pigeons ates his cabbage and the crows devour his wheat
There's a levy on his creamery and another on his beet
When he gets a spell of sunshine his grass may turn brown
And the carrot fly gets busy on his carrots in Clonown
My cousin up in Dublin has a job from 9 to 5
But the poor old farmer's working every minute he's alive
When the cows require a midwife or the turkeys start to fight
He has to don his overalls in the middle of the night.
Oh Dublin can be heaven when you stroll in Stephen's Green
But the good and bad are everywhere and there's plenty in between
We need each other badly if we're hoping to survive
So let's learn to live together and thank God we're all alive
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk, the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
Ah sure, I don't know what we're going to do
Getting all these letters in the post
Mary, who's that car pulling up outside?
What? A briefcase?
Tell them I'm not here, tell them I'm up the field
I'm gone, I've no time for talkin
I live on 40 acres with me parents and me wife
We've got two delightful children the eldest one is four
We're all content and happy and we ask for nothing more
But me cousins up in Dublin, they won't leave us alone
On the telly and the radio you can hear those people moan
They want to tax the farmers and some of them declares
That the farmers down the country are a bunch of millionaires
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
When the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
The farmer grows potatoes and saves them from the blight
Then he drives them up to Dublin and he's drivin' half the night
His profits may be paltry when he pays for all his trips
But he's happy for the city folks they can have their bags chips
The pigeons ates his cabbage and the crows devour his wheat
There's a levy on his creamery and another on his beet
When he gets a spell of sunshine his grass may turn brown
And the carrot fly gets busy on his carrots in Clonown
My cousin up in Dublin has a job from 9 to 5
But the poor old farmer's working every minute he's alive
When the cows require a midwife or the turkeys start to fight
He has to don his overalls in the middle of the night.
Oh Dublin can be heaven when you stroll in Stephen's Green
But the good and bad are everywhere and there's plenty in between
We need each other badly if we're hoping to survive
So let's learn to live together and thank God we're all alive
Oh it's grand to be a farmer ' till the hens refuse to lay
And the rains that fall in summer time destroys your fields of hay
And the curse of brucellosis hits your lovely heard of cows
And a quare disease you can't pronounce makes bacon of your sows
With prices fluctuating and with nothing guaranteed
Sure the farmer has his worries when he's many mouths to feed
So come all ye loyal Dublin folk, the farmer is your friend
Don't criticise him further or you'll drive him 'round the bend
Ah sure, I don't know what we're going to do
Getting all these letters in the post
Mary, who's that car pulling up outside?
What? A briefcase?
Tell them I'm not here, tell them I'm up the field
I'm gone, I've no time for talkin
Writer: John Duggan
Copyright: Lyrics © BARDIS MUSIC, USA ATTN: PETER BARDON
Copyright: Lyrics © BARDIS MUSIC, USA ATTN: PETER BARDON