Patrick Was A Gentleman


Patrick was a gentleman, came from decent people 
Built the church in Dublin town, and on it put a steeple 
His father was a Gallagher, his mother was a Brady 
His aunt was an O'Shaughnessy, his uncle was a Grady 
The Wicklow hills are very high, and so's the Hill of Howth, sir 
But there's a hill much higher still, much higher than them both, sir 
On the top of this high hill St. Patrick preached his sermom 
Which drove the frogs into the bogs and banished all the vermin 

There's not a mile of Eirann's isle where dirty vermin musters 
But there he put his dear fore-foot and murdered them in clusters 
The frogs went hop and the toads went pop slapdash into the water 
And the snakes committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter 
Nine hundred thousand reptiles blue he charmed with sweet discourses 
And dined on them in Killaloe on soups and second courses 
Where blind worms crawling in the grass disgusted all the nation 
Right down to hell with a holy spell he changed their situation 

No wonder that them Irish lads should be so gay and frisky 
Sure St. Pat he taught them that as well as making whiskey 
No wonder that the saint himself should understand distilling 
For his mother kept a shebeen shop in the town of Enniskillen 
Was I but so fortunate as to be back in Munster 
I'd be bound that from that ground I never more would once stir 
There St. Patrick planted turf and cabbages and praties 
Pigs galore, *mo gra, mo stor, altar boys and ladies.

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