Oh! to those who seek pleasure in Ireland
They need not go too far away
To Youghal, Tramore or Dungarvan
Lisdoonvarna, Lahinch or Kilkee
Sure you’ll find some enjoyment in coming,
And in case that you might go astray –
When you land in Tipperary, enquire for
The road between Newport and Rae.

When you reach the white walls up the mountains,
Enquire for the old copper mines,
And when you proceed a little further
Sure you’ll find yourself in Tooreenbrien;
Sure ‘tis there you’ll pull up at a tavern,
And the likes you won’t find every day
For its kept by a man named Mick Murphy,
On the road between Newport and Rae.

Miss Annie will bring down the fiddle
And she’ll play you a nice Irish air,
Whilst Nora will wait on the travellers
She’s a lassie with brown curling hair;
Old Michael himself he is civil
And the law he will strictly obey—
Give four pints to a traveller on Sunday
On the road between Newport and Rae.

Sure the boys have their light shoes all worn
They’re out every night at the dance
And the women are so fascinating
That you won’t find their equals in France
Sure they all get the staggers and megrims
At the time of the drawing of the hay
From the dancing and swinging ‘til morning
On the road between Newport and Rae.

You may travel from Queenstown to Derry
From Dublin right down to Mayo
You cold visit Killarney in Kerry
Or the homestead of old Brian Boru
But you won’t find a place more enchanting
Or the people so merry and gay
For the angels, they say, were seen sporting
On the road between Newport and Rae.