I don't know who wrote the following parody. I'm missing a verse or two and had to ad lib some lines. I first heard it from Earnan O raghallaigh of Dunfanaghy, co Donegal, who has gotten sick and tired of being asked to sing this parody:
If you go for a drink on a Saturday night,
A song and a pint, everything's going right
Till some drunk in his cups stumbles inside
And asks for that song called Willie McBride.
You say you don't know it, but that doesn't do,
"That being the case, I'll sing it for you,"
Then raises his voice and sings in a key,
Never heard before on land or on sea.
If you think that is bad, it gets even worse;
It appears that this fool knows every verse.
With his arm round your shoulders till he gets to the end
He sings it to you, for now you're his friend.
Oh, Willie McBride, why the hell did you die?
What trouble you'd have saved us if you'd come back alive
And got a wee job or signed on the bru,
We wouldn't have to hear all those songs about you.
Willie McBride, but I'm glad that you're dead
With the Green Fields of France piled over your head.
By the trouble you've caused with that song about you,
Oh, Willie McBride, shooting's too good for you.
HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 15-Nov-02.