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Similar Songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bruce Springsteen
Guitar
Sam Bardfeld
Violin
Art Baron
Trombone
Frank Bruno
Vocals
Jeremy Chatzky
Bass
Larry Eagle
Drums
Clark Gayton
Trombone
Charles Giordano
Accordion
Curtis King, Jr.
Vocals
Greg Liszt
Banjo
Lisa Lowell
Vocals
Eddie Manion
Saxophone
Cindy Mizelle
Vocals
Curt Ramm
Trumpet
Marty Rifkin
Dobro
Patti Scialfa
Vocals
Marc Anthony Thompson
Vocals
Soozie Tyrell
Violin
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Bruce Springsteen
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Brett Dicus
Assistant Engineer
Brandon Duncan
Assistant Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
Bob Clearmountain
Mixing Engineer
John Cooper
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
"Mrs McGrath", the sergeant said, "Would you like a soldier of your son, Ted?
With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat, Mrs McGrath, would you like that?"
With your too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With your too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
Now, Mrs McGrath lived on the shore and after seven years or more
She spied a ship come into the bay with her son from far away
"Oh captain dear, where have you been? You've been sailing the Mediterranean
Have you news of my son Ted? Is he living or is he dead?"
With your too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With your too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
Then came Ted without any legs, and in their place two wooden pegs
She kissed him a dozen times or two, and said, "My god, Ted, is it you?
Were you drunk or were you blind, when you left your two fine legs behind?
Or was it walking upon the sea that wore your two fine legs away?"
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
I wasn't drunk and I wasn't blind, when I left my two fine legs behind
A cannonball on the fifth of May tore my two fine legs away
"My Teddy-boy," the widow cried, "Your two fine legs were your mother's pride
Stumps of a tree won't do at all, why didn't you run from the cannonball?"
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
"All foreign wars I do proclaim, live on blood and a mother's pain
I'd rather have my son as he used to be, than the King of America and his whole navy"
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
With a too-ri-a-fol-diddle-di-a, too-ri-ooh-ri-ooh-ri-a
Written by: Bruce Springsteen, Dp, [traditional]