PAT OF MULLINGAR
Sung by Harry Richmond.
They may talk of Flying Childers,
And the speed of Harkaway,
Till the fancy it bewilders,
As you list to what they say;
But for real bone and beauty
Though, to travel near and far,
The fattest mare you'll find, belongs
To Pat of Mullingar.
She can trot along, jog along,
Drag a jaunting-car;
No day's too long, when set along
With Pat of Mullingar.
She was bred in Connemara,
And brought up at Castlemaine;
She won cups at the Currah,
The finest baste on all the plain I
All countries And conveyances
She has been buckled to;
She lost an eye at Limerick,
And an ear at Waterloo.-Chorus.
If a friend you wish to find, sir,
I'll go wherever you want;
I'll drive you out of your mind, sir,
Or a little way beyont,
Like an arrow through the air,
If you'll 6tep upon the car,
You'll ride behind the little ma:e
Of Pat of Mullingar.-Chorus.
To Dallymount or Kingston,
If the place you wish to see,
I'll drive you to the Strawberry beds.
It's all the same to me;
To Dounybrook, whose ancient fair
Is famed for love And war;
Or if you have the time to spare,
We'll go to Mullingar. - Chorus.
When on the road we're going,
The other carmen try
(Without the darling knowing),
To pass her on the sly;
Her one ear poiuts up to the sky.
She tucks her haunches in;
Then shows the lads how she can fly,
As I sit still and grin!- Chorus.
Then, should yez want a car, 6irs,
I hope you'll not forget
Poor Pat of Mullingar, sirs,
And his darliu' little pet;
She's as gentle as the dove, sirs,
Her speed you can't deuy;
And there's no blind side about her,
Though she ouly has one eye. - Chorus.