For the sake of health I took a
walk one morning in the dawn
I met a jolly turfman on the road as I went on
A friendly conversation came
between this man and me
And that's how I came
acquainted with the
Turfman from
Ardee
We chatted very freely as
we jogged along the road
Says he, my ass is tired and
I'd like to sell my load
For I've had no refreshment
since I left my home, you see,
And I'm tired out of travelling,
says the turf man from
Ardee.
Says
I, my friend, your cart is worn,
your ass is very old,
It must be twenty summers
since the day that he was foaled.
I remember well when he was born,
September 43,
And he cantered from the midwife
Says the turf man from
Ardee
And many's the time I've
used the beast
With this rough hazel rod
But I'm a stone I never did see
Poor
Jack go unshot
The harness that is on his back
It was made by
Sam
McGee
And he's dead these two -and -t
wenty years as the turf man from
Ardee
I know, my friend, my cart is worn,
but it's tough old
Irish wood
It must have been in constant
use since the time of
Noah's flood.
The axle never wanted grease,
but one year out of three,
It's a real old
Carrick axle, said the turf man from
Ardee.
Just then I heard a female voice
that I knew very well,
Politely asking this poor
man his load of turf to sell.
I shocked the steady old hand
of his and he bowed respectfully
And I hope I'll meet some
fu ture day with the
Turfman from
Ardee