Paddy and His Sweet Potheen.
Copyright, 1888, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Ed. Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham,
While the moon shines brightly o'er the mountain,
There the smoke goes curling up the hill;
Oh, so slyly watching for the danger,
While we work with a will at the still.
The birds twitter sweetly as a warning,
That the darkness is gone from the green;
And you'll find Pat there in the morning
A making of his sweet potheen.
Then we'll drink it down
With a smile and never frown;
To a friend, to a neighbor, and old Ireland green,
Let the glass go around.
We will welt it on the ground
To dear old Paddy and his sweet potheen;
Drink it down-drink it down,
Oh, we'll drink a shlanter all around.
In the old mud cabin by the hillside,
Where the turf burns brightly, do ye see?
There's a steaming kettle on the hob nail,
And it cries if you're dry, come to me.
Pour out from the jug on the table,
Oh, the whiskey unknownst to the queen,
That never was marked with a lable,
And we've christened it the sweet potheen. -Chorus.
Let the French vous parle with the trader,
And the Dutch ich sprechen with the beer;
We'll drink botheration to the gauger,
With a quaff and a laugh, and a cheer.
You'll find it the juice of old nature,
Our whiskey, the first ever seen;
Oh, we'll drink a noggin of the creature,
A noggin of the sweet potheen.-Chorus.