My, my, the memories. My grandfather (1st Generation Amereican) used to sing this all the time, even though he wasn't from Westmeath, or any place else in Ireland, wasn't a bachelor (obviously) and probably never saw a bog in his life. He said it was the only song he could remember hearing his own father sing. Any way, this is his version of the chorus:

Ah, with the rust upon her finger nails and varnish on her toes
Paint around her mouth so sour and whitewash on her nose;
She can get a fancy barber to shape her knucklehead.
That's why I am a bachelor and I don't intend to wed.

Hope you all enjoy it.