There's many a man that rode a horse across the western
Plain There's never been one like the Irishman
O'Sullivan was his name.

He never packed a shooting iron
The need he never felt
With two shillelaghs always hanging there
A'hanging on his belt.
O yippee ki yi oh, me bucko
B'gorrah an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.

(Har the shillelagh.
You know we call it the Tipperary rifle.
You never have to reload it.)

This bronco-busting Irishman
From the heart of Erin's Isle it was after living peaceful, like
He always wore a smile.
But when the smile was leaving him
In a fight he'd
Come unwound Bad cess for any crossing him
They'd wind up on the ground.

O yippee ki yi oh, me bucko
B'gorrah an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.

(Why he was so strong was Sullivan,
He could put his right hand in his own left pocket,
And hold himself out at arm's
Length. No man could do that.
It's O'Sullivan I'm talking
About. Oh, well he could.)

At throwing the rope for branding calf
He was a mighty man
At throwing his two shillelaghs now
The fastest in the land.
T'would be a sad mistake me boys
To reach for a 44
Before you could get the hammer cocked
He'd have you on
The floor.
O yippee ki yi oh, me bucko
B'gorrah an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.

(Did you know O'Sullivan played the Irish Harp?
No. Oh, sure, and he did.
He put 75 strings on his two shillelaghs,
He'd stretch them out 24 feet,and he had four leprechauns
Dancing on them to make the music.
Oh, the wonder of it. Sure and he would charm the coyotes out of the hills)

Across the range from morn 'til night
He rode for days
And days
A'fixin' fences here and there
And a picking
Up the strays.

A cattle spread he really built
As big as Ireland
Where he could range a million head
And a
Shamrock be his brand.
O yippee ki yi oh, me bucko
B'gorrah an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.

A bit of his lip, he back of his hand,
And the toe of his shoe to boot.
Oh, Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan.

(Now if you're ever riding through the sagebrush wilderness,
And you suddenly come upon acres and acres of shamrock sprinkled with stardust,
Well, you'll be after knowing,
That you've just arrived at the O Sullivan spread,
Known has the Lazy Leprachauns.
Stop in, won't you?
Sure, and they'll give you a belt of Bushmill's.)

Writer : BOTKIN, FOSTER
Copyright : Lyrics © FLEA MARKET MUSIC, INC.