Patrick was a Gentleman He came from daycent people He built a church in Dublin town And on it put a steeple His father was a Gallagher His mother was a Grady His aunt was an O'Shaughnessy His uncle was a Brady The Wicklow hills are very high And so is the hill of Howth sir But there's a hill much higher still Much higher than them both sir On top of this high hill St Patrick preached a sermon Drove the frogs into the bogs And banished all the vermin There's not a mile of Eireann'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 The snakes committed suicide To save themselves from slaughter 900,000 reptiles blue He charmed with sweet discourses Dined on them in Killaloe On soups and second courses Where blind worms crawling in the grass Disgusted all the nation 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 His mother kept a sheebeen 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 Cabbages and praties Pigs galore, mo grá, mo stoir Altar boys and ladies.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
