The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #86890   Message #1618968
Posted By: Q (Frank Staplin)
02-Dec-05 - 07:55 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: Paddy O'Neil (sea poetry)
Subject: Lyr Add: PADDY O'NEIL (sea poetry)
Lyric Add: PADDY O'NEIL

Ye sons of Hibernia, who snug on dry land,
Round a sparkling turf fire with whiskey in hand,
Ne'er think of the dangers attending the boys
Who are fighting your battles through nonsense and noise.
To Dublin I went up, that damnable place,
A spalpeen came up, and he swore to my face,
He called for the pressgang, they came without fail,
And they neck and heels tied me, poor Paddy O'Neil.

Away to the tender, they made me repair,
Of tenderness devil a morsel was there,
I roared and I cursed, but it did not avail,
In the cellar they crammed poor Paddy O'Neil.
They called up all hands, hands and feet soon obeyed.
I wished my (s)elf home, cutting turf with my spade;
The first thing I saw made my courage to fail.
'Twas a large floating castle for Paddy O'Neil.

I let go with my hands to hould fast by my toes;
The ship took a rowl, and away my head goes,
I fell in the water, and splashed like a whale,
And with boat hooks they fished up poor Paddy O'Neil.
For a bed they'd a sack hung as high as my chin,
They called it a hammock, and bid me git in;
I laid hold, took a leap, but my footing frail,
I swung clean over, poor Paddy O'Neil.

Up hammocks, down chests, the boatswain did bawl,
There's a French ship in sight, tunder an'ouns, is that all?
To a gun I was stationed, they uncovered her tail,
And the leading strings gave to poor Paddy o'Neil.
The captain cries: "England and Ireland, my boys!"
Oh! when he mentioned ould Ireland, my heart made a noise,
I clapped fire to her back, whilst I held by her tail,
The damned devil flew out and threw Paddy O'Neil.

So we lathered away, by my soul! hob or nob,
'Till the Frenchman gave up what he thought a bad job,
To tie him behind- a strong cord we did bring,
And we led him along like a pig in a string,
Peace now is returned, but should war come again,
By the piper of Leinster, I'd venture a-main;
Returning I'd tell you, fine folks, such a tale,
That you'd laugh till you'd cry at poor Paddy O'Neil.

H. De Marsan, N. Y., Song sheet, 19th c.,New York.
American Memory, http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/index.html, and click on music.