The legend lives on now from Donegal on down
Of the young lass who hailed from Kilkenny
The lass, it is said, never married nor bred
Though the men who had known her were many
With her dazzling green eyes she made all the lads cry
But to her they were drops in a bucket
So she set off one day on the fourteenth of May
On her quest for the man from Nantucket

This man, she had heard, had an aspect that stirred
Pure amazement in all those who'd known him
All the ladies were shocked and the men would get crocked
And the ones he ignored were left moanin'
In rhyme and in verse, there were stories perverse
That would make her feel restless and frantic
So she boarded a ship and embarked on a trip
O'er the waves of the mighty Atlantic

A storm of such force that it blew them off course
Sent them sailing on down to the Azores
With the sheets all in ruins, hanging loose in festoons
They were blessed to make port with their eight oars
As the tattered ship parked, the fares slowly debarked
For an unscheduled tour of the island
Where the natives confessed 'bout a New England guest
Who had left them all happy and smilin'

With the ship soon restored, all the folks got on board
And the captain set sail for New England
But the Kilkenny maid was alarmed and dismayed
And she felt her nerves twitchin' and tinglin'
From the unsett'lin' thought that the man whom she sought
Might have traveled to Leeds or Pawtucket
And her hopes to find him went from rosy to slim
On her quest for the man from Nantucket

Does any one know how the rumor winds blow
When the clouds of confusion get chalky?
He was seen in Pompeii, even seen in Bombay
And reportedly seen in Milwaukee
The tales that were told of this legend of old
Were conveyed by the ladies who'd craved him
How he'd broken the hearts of the floozies and tarts
From Marseilles to the town of New Haven

With the winds at their back now, the sails felt no slack
And the rest of the voyage was carefree
And the waves settled down with no storm to be found
While the people on board drank some sherry
'Cept the Kilkenny lass who just looked at her glass
As she wondered if she shouldn't chuck it
Was her trip doomed to fail, would she ever prevail
In her quest for the man from Nantucket

As the captain made port at the quaint old resort
And the passengers rushed to the landing
The news quickly spread of a man laying dead
From a wound that defied understanding
The legend lives on now from Donegal on down
Of the young lass whose quest was disrupted
And the man she desired who had sadly expired
When the blood from his eardrum erupted