I ran across this song while searching for songs about breeches, but this song didn't fit the theme of the other thread: Lyr Req: wearing the britches / breeches (where "wearing the breeches" is a metaphor for being the dominant member of a household). Enough words are different from the version posted above that I figured it would be worth having; plus, there is a known date and source for this one.

This song comes from The Red, White & Blue Monster Song Book, edited by John Diprose (London: J. A. Berger, 1860), page 272:


PADDY HEGARTY'S OLD LEATHER BREECHES.

It was at the sign of the Bell, on the road to Clonmel,
    Paddy Hegarty kept a neat shebeen.
He sold pig's meat and bread, kept a good lodgin' bed,
    And so well liked round the country had been.
Himself and his wife, both struggled through life.
    In the week days, Pat mended the ditches,
But on Sunday he dressed in a coat of the best,
    But his pride was his old leather breeches.
        Fol de rol, &c.

For twenty-one years, at least so it appears,
    His father those breeches had run in.
The morning he died, he to his bedside
    Called Paddy, his beautiful son, in.
Advice then he gave, ere he went to the grave.
    He bid him take care of his riches.
Says he: "It's no use to pop into my shoes,
    But I wish you'd step into my breeches."

Last winter the snow left provisions so low,
    Poor Paddy was eat out completely.
The snow coming down, he could not go to town.
    Thoughts of hunger soon bothered him greatly.
One night as he lay dreaming away
    About creedougs, frogs and witches,
He heard an uproar just outside of the door,
    And he jumped to steel on his ould breeches.

Says Bryan M'Guirk, with a voice like a Turk:
    "Paddy, come get us some eating."
Says big Andy Moore: "I'll burst open the door,
    For this is no night to be waiting."
Scarce had he spoke when the door went in broke,
    And they crowded round Paddy like leeches.
By the great mortal gob, if he didn't get them prog,
    They'd eat him clean out of his breeches.

Now Paddy in dread slipped into his bed,
    That held Judy, his darling wife in,
And there he agreed to get them a feed.
    He slipped out and brought a big knife in.
He took up the waist of his breeches, the beast,*
    And cut out the buttons and stitches,
And cut them in stripes by the way they were tripes,
    And boiled them, his ould leather breeches.

When the tripes were stewed, on a dish they were strewed.
    The boys all cried out: "Lord-be-thanked!"
But Hegarty's wife was afraid of her life.
    She thought it high time for to shank it,
To see how they smiled, for they thought Pat had boiled*
    Some mutton and beef of the richest,
But little they knew it was leather burgoo,
    That was made out of Paddy's ould breeches.

They walloped the stuff; says Andy: "It's tough."
    Says Paddy: "You're no judge of mutton,"
When Bryan M'Quirk, on the point of a fork,
    Lifted up a big ivory button.
Says Darby: "What's that? Sure I thought it was fat."
    Bryan leaps on his legs, and he screeches:
"By the powers above! I was trying to shove
    My teeth through the flap of his breeches."

They all made at Pat; he was gone out of that.
    He run when he found them all rising.
Says Bryan: "Make haste, and go for the priest.*
    By the holy saint Jackstone, I'm poisoned!"
Revenge for the joke they had for they broke
    All the chairs, tables, bowls and dishes,
And from that very night, they will knock out your daylight,
    If they catch you with leather breeches."


[* For these words, the internal rhyme implies a dialectical pronunciation.]

The Bodleian Library broadside collection contains several versions of this song. The titles vary somewhat:
PADDY HAGERTY'S LEATHER BREECHES
PADDY HAGGERTY'S LEATHER BREECHES
PADDY HEGARTY'S LEATHER BREECHES
PAT HAGGARTY'S BREECHES
PATS LEATHER BREECHES