Oh, the boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades
And whenever they meet the nice little maids
They'll kiss them and coax them, and spend their money free,
Of all the towns in Ireland, Kilkenny for me.

In the town of Kilkenny there runs a clear stream,
In the town of Kilkenny there lives a pretty dame,
Her lips are like roses, and her lips(?) much the same,
Like a dish of fresh strawberries smothered in cream.

Her eyes are as black as Kilkenny's large coal,
And right through my bosom the have burned a large hole;
Her mind, like its river is mild, clear and pure,
But her heart is more hard than its marble I fear.

Kilkenny's a pretty town and shines where it stands,
And the more I think of it the more my heart warms,
If I was in Kilkenny I should then be at home,
For there I have sweethearts, but here I have none.

I'll build my love a castle on Kilkenny's free ground,
Neither Lords, dukes or squires will ever pull it down,
And if anyone should ask you to tell him my name
I'm a poor Irish exile and from Kilkenny I came.