Advice I received out on the road
From a rogue of a priest to marry an old man
But he cared for nothing save that I would increase his wealth
And that I would be for my whole life dependent on the neighbors

Chorus (after each verse):
O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me
O yerra, old man, may you be scorched and burned
O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me
And if I were at the door I would catch you alive

I went to Cork looking for the wherewithal for a wake
Tobacco pipes and wood for a coffin
On my return home, sick, tired and sad
Where did I find my old man but roasting bacon

If I were to find my old man drowned in a boghole
His legs broken and his bones in pain
I'd take him home and I'd wake him
And I'd walk out with the young boys

If you marry an old man, you will marry a rogue
Who will leave rags before you on the stairs
In the morning he'll be complaining with roguery
And in the evening he'll be merrily playing music

I married an old man, I had no sense
I did that on the advice of my relatives
I went home with him, sad is the story
And I got up in the morning preferring to be dead

O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me
O yerra, old man, may you be scorched and burned
O yerra, old man, being with you is not for me
And a couple of Sundays will put you under the sod