I found this--- It's not quite the same; has the "whiskey is plenty" and the same theme, but no chickens.

Did ye's ever go in'till an Irishman's shanty?
Och! b'ys, that's the place where the whiskey is plenty;
With his pipe in his mouth, there sits Paddy so free,
No king in his palace is prouder than he!

CHORUS: Arrah! me honey! w-h-a-c-k! Paddy's the boy.

There's a three-legged stool, with a table to match,
And the door of the shanty is locked with a latch;
There's a nate feather matrass all bustin' with straw,
For the want of a bedstead, it lies on the floor. CHORUS

There's a snug little bureau without paint or gilt,
Made of bords that was left when the shanty was built,
There's a three-cornered mirror hangs up on the wall,
The divd a face has been in it at all. CHORUS

He has pigs in the sty, an a cow in the stable,
And he feeds them on scraps that is left from the table
They'd starve if confined, so they roam at their aise,
And come into the shanty whinever they plase. CHORUS

He has three rooms in one--kitchen, bed-rom and hall,
And his chist it is three wooden pegs in the wall;
Two suits of ould clothes makes his wardrobe complete
One to wear in the shanty, that same for the street. CHORUS

He can relish good victuals as ever ye's ate,
But is always continted with praties and mate;
He prefers them when cowld (if he can't get them hot,
And makes tay in a bowl when he can't get a pot. CHORUS

There is one who partakes of his sorrow and joys,
Attends to the shanty, the girls and the boys;
(The brats he thinks more of than gold that's refined)
But Biddy's the jewel that's set in his mind. CHORUS

The rich may divide there enjoyments alone,
With those who have riches as great as there own;
But Pat hangs the latch-string outside of his door,
And will share his last cent with the needy and poor. CHORUS