Lyr Req: Paddy Doyle the Poacher

Subject: Lyr Req: Paddy Doyle The Poacher
From: Frank_Finn
Date: 06 Oct 08 - 07:25 PM

I am looking for the words of this song. Hope someone can help

Subject: Lyr Add: PADDY DOYLE THE POACHER
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 08 Oct 08 - 12:22 AM

Transcribed from the "video" at YouTube:

PADDY DOYLE THE POACHER
As sung by Sullivan's Gypsies on "The Leprechaun"

1. There's a man in our town.
He's a man of great renown.
He never comes out till the sun goes down,
Paddy Doyle the poacher.
Well, the local squire is goin' mad.
A peaceful life he's never had.
He can only blame one lad:
Paddy Doyle the poacher.

CHORUS: For snarin' rabbits, gaffin' salmon,
Stealin' chickens, he's your man.
Shootin' deer and pheasants too,
There's no better in Ireland.

2. Well a poacher's life is lots o' fun.
The girls they love him every one.
He lives on his wits and his old shotgun,
Paddy Doyle the poacher.
Well, the squire's age is nineteen-five,
And nobody knows how he stays alive.
He gets all his exercise
Chasin' Doyle the poacher.

3. Well, he sees him here and he sees him there.
The squire sees him everywhere.
He's sly as a fox, fast as a hare,
Paddy Doyle the poacher.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Paddy Doyle the Poacher
From: Nick Dow
Date: 14 Mar 26 - 06:26 AM

The Gypsy folk sing it as Jimmy Doyle the poacher. I learned it from Big Roy Morris who taught me to paint wagons decades ago.
They put a 'RanTan diddle -I-dan' chorus. You hear it at the horse fairs.
Here's how I learnt it.


There's a poacher in our town.
He's a man of great renown.
He never goes out till the sun goes down,
Jimmy Doyle the poacher.

CHORUS: For snarin' rabbits, gaffin' salmon,
Stealin' chickens, he's your man.
Shootin' deer and pheasants too,
There's no better in the land.
Ran tan diddle I dan
Jimmy Doyle the poacher.

Chorus

Well, the local squire is goin' mad.
A peaceful life he's never had.
He can only blame one lad:
Jimmy Doyle the poacher.

Chorus

Well a poacher's life is lots o' fun.
The girls they love him every one.
They all want to try his old shotgun,
Lucky old Doyle the poacher.

Chorus

Well, the squire's age is nineteen-five,
And nobody knows how he stays alive.
He gets all his exercise
Chasin' Doyle the poacher.

Chorus

Well, they seek him here they seek him there.
They seek that bastard everywhere.
He's sly as a fox, fast as a hare,
Jimmy Doyle the poacher.

Chorus