“Whiskey in the Jar,” also known as “Kilgary Mountain,” stands as one of Ireland’s most iconic folk songs, with roots stretching back to the 17th century. The song tells the tale of a highwayman who robs a military officer but is ultimately betrayed by his lover, a narrative that resonated deeply in colonial Ireland where outlaws were often romanticized as folk heroes resisting British authority.
Originally passed down through oral tradition, the song was first documented in print in the early 19th century, though it had likely been sung throughout Ireland for generations before. Regional variations emerged across Ireland, each with slight differences in lyrics and melody, reflecting local dialects and historical contexts. “Whiskey in the Jar” gained international recognition during the Irish folk revival of the 1960s, with definitive renditions by groups like The Dubliners. Its crossover to mainstream popularity was cemented when rock bands including Thin Lizzy (1973) and later Metallica (1998) adapted the song, transforming this Irish folk ballad into a global rock anthem while preserving its rebellious spirit. Today, it remains perhaps the most widely recognized Irish folk song worldwide.
Lyrics
As I was a-walkin’ over Kilgary Mountain
I met with Capt. Pepper and his money he was countin’
I rattled my pistols and I drew forth my saber
Sayin’, “Stand and deliver, for I am the bold deceiver”
Musha rig um du rum da
Whack fol the daddy o
Whack fol the daddy o
There’s whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny
I put it in my pocket for to take it home to Jenny
She promised and she vowed she never would deceive me
But the devil’s in the women and they always lie so easy
When I was awakened between six and seven
The guards all around me in numbers odd and even
I flew to my pistols, but alas I was mistaken
For Jenny’s drawn my pistols and a prisoner I was taken
They put me into prison without judge or writin’
For robbing Capt. Pepper on Kilgary Mountain
But they didn’t take my fists so I knocked the sentry down
And bid a fond farewell to the jail in Limric town
I wish I’d find my brother, the one that’s in the army
I don’t know where he’s stationed, in Cork or in Kelarny
Together we’d go ramblin o’er the mountains of Kilkenny
I know he’s treat me better than my darlin’ sportin’ Jenny
Now some take delight in fishin’ and a-bowlin’
And others take delight in carriages a-rollin’
But I take delight in the juice of the barley
And courtin’ pretty maidens in the morning oh so early
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