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American Ballads and Folk Songs
A Yankee clerk with ink and pen, To cheat Pat on the railroad*
It's "Pat, do this" and "Pat, do that," Without a stocking or cravat, And nothing but an old straw hat, While Pat works on the railroad.
One Monday morning to our surprise* Just half an hour before sunrise, The dirty divil went to the skies, And Pat worked on the railroad.
And when Pat lays him down to sleep, The wiry bugs around him creep, And divil a bit can poor Pat sleep, While he works on the railroad.
In eighteen hundred and forty-three, 'Twas then I met sweet Biddy Magee, And an illygant wife she's been to me, While workin' on the railway.
In eighteen hundred and forty-six,
The gang pelted me with stones and bricks.
Oh, I was in a hell of a fix,
While workin' on the railroad*
In eighteen hundred and forty-seven, Sweet Biddy Magee, she went to heaven, If she left one child, she left eleven, To work upon the railway*
In eighteen hundred and forty-eight, I learned to take my whisky straight, 'Tis an illygant drink and can't be bate, For working on the railway.