Our Whole World

Dublin Jack Of All Trades

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Oh I am a roving sporting blade, they call me Jack of all Trades
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 I always place my chief delight in courting pretty fair maids
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 So when to Dublin I arrive to try for a situation
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 I always hear them say it was the pride of all the Nations

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 On George's Quay I first began and I there became a porter
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 Me and my master soon fell out which cut my acquaintance shorter
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 In Sackville Street, a pastry cook, In James' Street, a baker
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 In Cook Street I did coffins make, In Eustace Street, a preacher

 
 CHORUS:
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 I'm a roving jack of many a trade
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 Of every trade, of all trades

 And if you wish to know me name
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 They call me Jack of all trades
 

 In Baggot street I drove a cab and I there was well requited

 In Francis Street had lodging beds, to entertain all strangers

 For Dublin is of high renown, or I am much mistaken

 In Kevin Street, I do declare, sold butter, eggs and bacon
 

 In Golden Lane I sold old shoes, in Meath Street was a grinder

 In Barrack Street I lost my wife and I'm glad I ne'er could find her

 In Mary's Lane, I've dyed old clothes, of which I've often boasted

 In that noted place Exchequer Street, sold mutton ready roasted
 
 
 In Temple Bar, I dressed old hats, in Thomas Street, a sawyer
 In Pill Lane, I sold the plate, in Green Street, an honest lawyer
 In Plunkett Street I sold cast clothes, in Bride's Alley, a broker
 In Charles Street I had a shop, sold shovel, tongs and poker
 
 In College Green a banker was, and in Smithfield, a drover
 In Britain Street, a waiter and in George's Street, a glover
 On Ormond Quay I sold old books, and in King Street, a nailer
 In Townsend Street, a carpenter; and in Ringsend, a sailor
 
 
 In Cole's Lane, a butcher was and in Dane Street, a tailor
 In Moore Street a chandler and on the Coombe, a weaver
 In Church Street, I sold old ropes, on Redmond's Hill a draper
 In Mary Street, sold 'bacco pipes, in Bishop street a quaker
 
 In Peter Street, I was a quack, in Greek street, a grainer
 On the Harbour, I did carry sacks, in Werburgh Street, a glazier
 In Mud Island, was a dairy boy, where I became a scooper
 In Capel Street, a barber's clerk, in Abbey Street, a cooper
 
 
 In Liffey street had furniture with fleas and bugs I sold it
 And at the Bank a big placard I often stood to hold it
 In New Street I sold hay and straw, and in Spitalfields made bacon
 In Fishamble Street was at the grand old trade of basketmaking
 
 In Summerhill a coachmaker, in Denzille Street a gilder
 In Cork Street was a tanner and in Brunswick Street, a builder
 In High Street, I sold hosiery, in Patrick Street sold all blades
 So if you wish to know me name, they call me Jack of all Trades