The last verse, as remembered from the Springfield, Brighton, late sixties:

McGinty's goat he had a wondrous appetite
One morning for breakfast he ate some dynamite
A small box of matches he swallowed all serene
And then to wash it down, he drank some kerosene.
He sat by the fireside, he didn't give a hang -
He swallowed a spark and exploded with a bang.
Now if you go to heaven you can bet a dollar note
That the angel with the whiskers on is Paddy McGinty's goat.

Jon Bartlett