I'll Dance Upon Your Grave.
As sung by Jack Hennessey.
Now when I was a nice young girl,
And faith you needn't grin;
The boys they came from miles and miles.
My heart and hand to win.
Put Burke's the boy I gave them to,
Swore he'd be kind and true,
But now he's always blind drunk,
And he bates me black and blue.
Pat, you're a villain,
Patrick, you're a rogue.
There's nothing of you Irish,
Except your name and brogue.
You're killing me by inches,
You know I am your slave.
But when you're dead, you mane ould scutI'll dance upon your grave.
Sometimes he works a nice full week,
Goes on a spree the next,
And sure he'd curse the cobwebs
On the ceiling if he's vexed.
He never can come straight home
Without boozing on the way,
Last week he only brought home,
About one-half of his pay.-Chorus.
Last week he came home speechless drunk
And wanted me to fight,
The noble art of self-defense
He said he'd teach me right.
Put up your hands, he quickly said.
When mad I thought he'd gone.
And he rose a lump upon my nose
You could hang your trousers on.-Chorus.