Lyrics

I was born a tinker I’ll tell you no lie
A tinker I’ll live and a tinker I’ll die
Now don’t get me wrong I carry no shame
The Lord made me a tinker and I’m proud of my name

My father brewed poteen on Bessiebelle Brae
And when I was twelve to me he did say
Now son you’re of age and it’s plain to be seen
It’s time that I taught you to make the poteen

Well he taught me the trade and I learned it well
I made the finest poteen any tinker could sell
And I used the same still as my dad used before
Sue It’s been in the family a hundred year or more

I sold my poteen from Derry to Cobh
From Donegal to Dublin and around through Mayo
Through the thirty two counties I’m free for to roam
The poteen’s my living and the roadside my home

I married a tinker a colleen so fair
Her father and mother were tinkers from Clare
To have me as a son was their fondest dream
And I loved teaching them how to make the poteen

I would teach him the trade of the Tinker’s Poteen

see also   The Tinker and the poteen / Packie McGonigle   The Tinker's poteen / Annie Hirrell