St. Patrick was a gentlman

Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people,
In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple
His father was a Callahan, his mother was a Grady,
His aunt was O'Shaughnessy and uncle he was Brady

Success to bold Saint Patrick's fist,
He was a Saint so clever,
He gave the snakes an awful twist
And banished them forever

There's not a smile in Ireland's isle where the dirty vermin musters
Where’er he put his dear forefoot he murder’d them in clusters
The toads went hop, the frogs went plop, slap dash into the water
And the beasts committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter

Nine hundred thousand vipers blue he charm’d with sweet discourses
And dined on them at Killaloo an’ in the second courses
When blind worms crawling on the grass disgusted all the nation
He gave them a rise and open’d their eyes to a sense of their situation

The Wicklow hills are very high and so’s the hill of Howth, sir
But there's a hill much higher still, Ay, higher then them both, sir
And it was on the top of his hill, Saint Patrick preach’d the "Sarmint"
That drove the frogs into the bogs and bothered all the "varmint"

Stand up to your devil

I grew up in Ireland in dear old Dublin town
Brought up by a people who'd let nothin' get 'em down
I was thought while still a child to stand up for me rights
Prepare to face the devil that would plague me in my life

I served a long apprenticeship at very honest trade
And met so many devils of whom I felt afraid
But father's words came back to me when I wanted to back down
I looked each divil in the eye and boldly stood me ground

Stand up to your devils or they'll walk over you
Remember, son, the devils come in many shapes and hues
There's devil that is handsome, the devil that is mean
Some of them look scruffy and some look far too clean

I tried me hand at courtin' an' women found me sweet
Until I met McKenna who knocked me off me feet
Oh, Lord, was she a lover or a temper of a shrew
She not just knocked off me feet, she knocked me black and blue

Sure she was a devil dressed up in Angel's guise
When you'd least expect a clout she'd hit you 'tween the eyes
She started talkin' marriage each time she looked at me
I felt 'twas time I got to know the divils of the sea

I waved my hand and said goodbye as ship pulled from the quay
Adventure layed before me and so did seven seas
I travelled many ocean miles and found from east to west
The devils you are safest with are those that you know best

Star of the county down

Near Banbridge Town in the County down,
One morning last July,
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.

From Bantry Bay up to berry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
And I looked with a feelin' rare,
And I say's, say's I, to a passer by,
"Who's the maid with the nut brown hair?"
He smyiled at me and he say's, say's he,
"That's the gem of the Ireland's crown,
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down".

From Bantry Bay up to berry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down.

At the harvest fair she'll be surely there
So I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,
With my shoes shine bright, and my hat cocked right,
For the smile of a nut brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke,
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown.
Till a smyling bride, by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.

From Bantry Bay up to berry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down.

The beggarman

I am a little beggarman, a begging I have been.
For fifty years or more in this little isle of green,
Up to the Liffey and down to Tessague,
And I'm known by the name of old Johnny Doo.

Of all the trades of living sure the begging is the best
For when man is tired he can sit down and rest
Beg for a living, he's got nothing else to do.
But run around the corner with his old rigado.

I slept last night in a barn at Currabawn.
A wet night came on and I slipped through the door.
Holes in my shoes and the toes peepin' through
Singin' skinny-ma-rink-a-doodlum for ould Johnny Dhu.

I must be gettin' home for it's gettin' late at night.
The fire's all raked and there isn't any light
And now you've heard me story of the old ricadoo.
It's good-night and God bless you from ould Johnny Dhu.

The real me

I'm a singer alcoholic
I am mostly melancholic
I am wearing just one trousers
And that’s all that you can see
I’m not so old as I’m lookin’
I am married and I’m cookin’
I’m not a creature just for lookin’
There’s the side that you can’t see

Chorus
When you see me on TV
It’s just picture, It’s not me
Try harder for to see
When your beer is fairly good
I am drinkin’ all the time
An’ I’m happy for a while
Oh my voice is total crime
Bud my beer is very good
Have you understood
When I’m in the mood
Where’s the fuckin’ food
When the beer is good

I am tortured by our driver
Who is drivin’ for a fiver
I can not stand his lies
An’ I’ll kill him at a time
All the others drive me crazy
An’ they think that I am lazy
Often say that I’m a liar
But their souls will burn in fire

Chorus

I’m tired of stupid questions
That coused me bad digestions
I’m sick to guts of bastards
Who really make me mad
I am singin’ for my pleasure
An’ that’s my only measure
That’s my cure for livin’
When I’m feelin’ bad

Chorus

The Wearing of the green

Oh. Paddy dear and did you hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground.
St. Patrick's Day no more will keep his colour can't be seen
For they hangin' men and women for the wearing of the green.
I met with Napper tandy and he took me by the hand.
He said : "How's dear old Ireland and how does she stand?"
She's the most distressful country that you have ever seen
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

And if the colour we must wear is england's cruel red,
Shure Ireland sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.
You may take the shamrock from your hat and cast it down the sod,
'Twill take all root and flourish there, tho' under foot 'tis trod.
My father loved his country and sweeped from in 'is breast,
But I had one they died for her must never soul be blessed.
Most tears me mother shad for me, how'd bitter they had been,
But I had proved the traitor for the wearing of the green.

And if at last our coloured shirt be thorn from Ireland's heart,
Her sons would shame and sorrow for the dear old my wound heart.
I hear the whisper of the land that lies me on the sea,
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day.
Oh, Ireland, must believe you driven high from tyrant's hand,
And see come mother's blessing from the strange and distant land,
Where the cruel cross of england shall never more be seen,
And in that land we live and die still wearing Ireland's green.

Weila Weila

There was an old woman and she lived in a wood
And she had a baby three months old
And she had a pen - knife long and sharp
Then she stuck the pen - knife in a baby's heart

Then the three loud knocks come a knocking at the door
There was two policeman and a man
Well they took her away and they put her in a jail
Then they put a rope around her neck

Then they pull the rope and she got hang
And that was the end of the woman in the wood
And that was the and of a baby too down by the river Soria

Whiskey you're the devil

Now brave boys we'll run for march, not to Portugal or Spain,
The drums are beatin', banners flyin', the devil at home we'll find tonight.

Love, fare thee well,
With me ti-ther-ee-i doo-dle-um-a-day,
With me ti-ther-ee-i doo-dle-um-a-day,
Me right-fol toor-a-lad-die o, there's whisky in the jar.

Whisky, you're the devil, you're leading me astray,
Over hills and mountins and to Americay,
You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, you're spunkier than tay,
O, whisky you're me darlin', drunk or sober.

The French are fighting boldly, men are dyin' hot and cowardly,
Give every man his turn of powder and firelock on his shoulder.

Says the mother : "Do not wrong me, don't take my daughter from me,
For if you do I will torment you and after that me ghost will haunt you".

Wild rover

I’ve been a wild rover for many a year and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer
But now I’m returning with gold in great store and I never will play the wild rover no more

And it’s no, nay, never
No, nay, never, no more
Will I play the wild rover
No, never, no more

I went down to an ale house I use to frequent and I told the landlady me money’s all spent
I asked her for credit she answered me nay, such a custom like yours I can have any day
I took from me pocket ten sovereigns bright and the landlady’s eyes opened wide with delight
She said I have the whiskeys and wines of the best and the words that she spoke sure were only in jest

I’ll go home to parents confess what I’ve done and I’ll ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And if they caress me as oft times before sure I never will play the wild rover no more