When first I saw sweet Peggy,
‘Twas on a market day,
A low-backed car she drove, and sat
Upon a truss of hay;
But when that hay was blooming grass,
And decked with flowers of Spring,
No flow’r was there that could compare
With the blooming girl I sing.
As she sat in her low-backed car –
The man at the turnpike bar
Never asked for the toll,
But just rubbed his owld poll
And looked after the low-backed car.

In battle’s wild commotion,
The proud and mighty Mars,
With hostile scythes, demands his tithes
Of death – in warlike cars;
While Peggy, peaceful goddess,
Has darts in her bright eye,
That knock men down, in the market town,
As right and left they fly –
While she sits in her low-backed car,
Than battle more dangerous far –
For the doctor’s art,
Cannot cure the heart
That is hit from that low-backed car.

Sweet Peggy, round her car, sir,
Has strings of ducks and geese,
BUT the scores of hearts she slaughters
By far out-number these;
While she among her poultry sits,
Just like a turtle dove,
Well worth the cage, I do engage,
Of the blooming god oflove!
While she sits in her low-backed car,
The lovers come near and far,
And envy the chicken
That Peggy is pickin’,
As she sits in her low-backed car.

0, I’d rather own that car, sir,
With Peggy, by my side,
Than a coach-and-four and gold galore,
And a lady for my bride;
For the lady would sit forninst me,
On a cushion made with taste,
While Peggy would sit beside me
With my arm around her waist –
While we drove in the low-backed car,
To be married by Father Maher,
Oh, my heart would beat high
At her glance and her sigh –
Though it beat in a low-backed car.