In the town of Ballybay, there was a lassie dwellin'
I knew her very well, and her story's worth-a-tellin'.
Her father kept a still, and he was a good distiller,
But when she took to the drinkin' what the devil wouldn't fill 'er.
Wish me ring-a-ding-a-dong, a-ring-a-ding-a-derrio,
A-ring-a-ding-a-dong, whack fol' the derrio.
And she said she couldn't dance, unless she had her welly on,
But when she had it on, she could dance as well as anyone.
She wouldn't go to bed, unless she had her shimmy on,
But when she had it on, she would go to bed with anyone.
Chorus (Wish me ring...)
Well she had a wooden leg, it was hollow down the middle,
And she used to tie a string on it and play it like a fiddle.
She fiddled in the hall, she fiddled in the alleyway,
She didn't give a damn, she had to fiddle anyway.
She had lovers by the score, every Tom and Dick and Harry,
She was courted night and day, but still she wouldn't marry.
And then she fell in love with a fella with a stammer,
When he tried to run away, she hit him with a hammer.
They had children by the score, they had children by the byer,
And another ten or twelve sittin' growin' by the fire.
She fed 'em on potatas and on soup she made from nettles,
And on lumps of hairy bacon that she boiled up in the kettle.
So she led a sheltered life, eatin' porridge and black puddin'
And she terrorized her man, until he died right sudden.
And when her fella died, she was feelin' kinda sorry,
So she rolled him in a sheet, and she threw him in the quarry.
Copyright Tommy Makem