While on the road to old Athy, ahoo!
The harvest moon was in the sky,
I heard a dolorous damsel cry—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, and guns and drums,
The enemy fairly slew ye;
My darling dear, ye look so queer—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Where is your nose, ye pitiful crow, ahoo!
Ye had it when going to scatter the foe,
The loss of it has disfigured ye so—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.

Where is your eye that looked so wild, ahoo!
When my poor heart ye first beguiled;
Why did you skedaddle from me and the child—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.

It broke my heart to see ye sail, ahoo!
And seeing ye here has raised a wail—
The cut of your head would embellish a tale—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.

Where are the legs wid which ye run, ahoo!
When first ye went to shoulder a gun;
I fear your dancing days are done—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.

Ye’s haven’t an arm, ye’s haven’t a leg, ahoo!
You’re a noseless, eyeless, chickenless egg,
Ye’ll have to be put in a bowl to beg—
Och! Johnny, I hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.

But sad as it is to see you so, ahoo!
And to think of you now as an object of woe,
Your Peggy will still keep ye on as her beau,
Though, Johnny, she hardly knew ye.
Wid drums and guns, &c.