Lyrics

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

My father brewed poteen on Bessiebrown Brae
And when I was twelve to me he did say
Fair son you have grown 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
We made the finest poteen any tinker could sell
And I sued the same still as my dad used before
It’s been in the family a hundred year or more.

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

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

see also   The tinker and the poteen / Dan McGonigle   The tinker's poteen / Annie Hirrel video