|
Pat of Mullingar
Author unknown
They
may talk of Flying Childers, and the speed of Harkaway,
Till the fancy it bewilders, as you list to what they say;
But for real bone and beauty, though to travel far and near,
The fastest mare you'll find belongs to Pat of Mullingar.
CHORUS:
She can trot along, jog along, drag a jaunting car,
No day's so long, when you set along with Pat of Mullingar.
She
was bred in Connemara, and brought up in Castlemaine,
She won cups at the Curragh, the finest baste on all the plain;
All the countries and conveyances she has been buckled to,
She lost an eye at Limerick and an ear at Waterloo
Chorus
If
a friend you wish to find, sir, I'll go wherever you want,
I'll drive you out of your mind, sir, or a little way beyont;
Like an arrow through the air if you'll step upon the car,
You'll ride behind the little mare of Pat of Mullingar.
Chorus
To
Dallymount or Kingstown, if the place you wish to see,
I'll drive you to the Strawberry beds, it's all the same to me:
To Donnybrook, whose ancient air is famed for love or war,
Or, if you have time to spare, we'll go to Mullingar
Chorus
When
on the road we're going, the other Carmen try
(without the darlin' knowing) to pass her on the sly;
Her one ear points up to the sky, she tucks her haunches in,
Then shows the lads how she can fly as I sit still and grin.
Chorus
Then
should yez want a car, sirs, I hope you'll not forget
Poor Pat of Mullingar, sirs, and his darlin' little pet;
She's as gentle as the dove, sirs, her speed you can't deny,
And there's no blind side about her, tho' she hasn't got an eye.
Chorus
Back
to top
|
