One Paddy Doyle lived in Killarney;
He courted a girl called Biddy O'Toole.
Her tongue was tipped with a bit of the blarney;
The same to Pat was a golden rule.
Day and dawn she was his colleen.
Pat was often heard to say,
"Arrah, what's the use of me walking faster?
Biddy, she will meet me on the way."
cho: Whack fol loora loora lido
Whack fol loora loor I day
One heavenly night in dull November,
The moon shone dearly from above -
The night it was I don't remember -
Pat sought out to meet his love.
This boy to-day had drunk some liquor,
His spirits being light and gay.
Fatigue and whisky overcome him;
Pat lay down upon the way.
Pat lay down in gentle slumber,
Thinking of his Bridget dear,
Dreaming of pleasures without number,
Thinking of her coming near.
But he was not long without a comrade,
And one that could toss up the hay,
For an old jackass had smelled of Paddy,
And he laid beside him on the way.
Pat snugged and he hugged this hairy devil,
And threw his head to the world of care.
Says Pat, "She's mine, may the heavens bless her!
But by my soul she's like a bear."
Pat put his head on the donkey's forehead,
And then the ass began to bray.
Pat he yelled and screamed out, "Murder!
Who has served me in such a way?"
Pat jumped up and off he ran
At railroad speed and faster too.
He never stopped neither hand nor foot
Till he arrived at Bridget's door.
By this time it was getting morning.
Pat fell on his knees to pray,
Saying, "Open the door, my Bridget darling!
I'm killed, I'm murdered on the way!"
Pat told his story mighty civil
While Biddy prepared a whisky glass -
How he hugged and he snugged that hairy devil.
"Go along," says Biddy. "It was Doran's ass."
"I knew it was, my Bridget darling."
They both got married that same day,
But Pat he never saw his old straw hat,
For the jackass eat it on the way.
From Ballads and Sea Songs from Nova Scotia, Mackenzie
Collected from Alexander Murphy