All lyrics scan if sung with a rural Irish accent...this involves joining words together to make one word, also shortening of words like "OF" etc. as in "St. Denis "OF" France to "O" St Denis o' France

words that are joined are marked *word word*


Saint Patrick's Arrival

Have ye heard of St Denis o' France, though he never did much for to brag on.
Have ye heard of St George and his lance, who slew *the old* heathenish dragon.
The saints o' the Welshmen and Scotch are a *couple o'* harpers and pipers,
The might as well all go *t' pot* when compared to the patron o' Vipers
Saint Patrick of Ireland *mi dears*.

Well he sailed to *th' emerald isle* on a lump of a paving stone mounted
And beat the steam boat *by a* mile which might be good sailing was counted
Says he the salt water I think, it has made me unmerciful thirsty
So bring me a flagon to drink to wash down the mully grubs bursting
Drink that is fit for a saint

Well he preached them with wonderful force to the ignorant natives a teaching
With pints he washed down each discourse *says he* I detest to be dry when I'm preaching
The people with wonderment struck *at a* parson so pious and civil
exclaimed we're for you *my old* buck we'll heave our blind gods to the divil
Who dwells in hot water bellow.

********************************************************
think Darby O'Gill accent....thats how it should be sung

well here's the rest of it for your records
********************************************************

Now this pious and worshipful man went to visit an elegant fellow
Who's' practise each cool afternoon was to get most delightfully mellow
That day from a barrel of beer he was drinking away with abandon
Says Patrick its grand to be here I drank nothing to speak of since landing
So give us a sup from your pot

Well he lifted the pewter in sport and believe me I tell its no fable
A gallon he drank from the quart, left it back full on to the table
A miracle everyone cried so they all took a sup from the dingo
They were mighty good hands at the trade, they drank till they fell yet be jingo
The pot still froth'ed o'er the brim

Next day says the host is a fast and I've nothing to eat but cold mutton
And in Fridays such a repast would have made them all heathenish gluttons
Stop this nonsense says Patrick I beg do you tell me you've nothing but lamb in
The host he brought down the lambs leg, Patrick ordered it turned into salmon
and the leg most politely complied

well ye heard I suppose long ago of the snakes in a manner most frantic
he marched to the county Mayo, ordered them all into the Atlantic
hence never use water to drink the people of Ireland determine
with very good reason I think for Patrick has filled it with vermin
and snakes and such dirty things

well he was as fine a man as you'd get from here to Killtrumper
and though he is stretched 'neath the clay lets all drink his health with a bumper
I wish he was here that my glass that he might with his magic replenish
But since he is not why alas my old song it must come to a finish
Saint Patrick of Ireland mi dears