That's Why I'm an Irishman.
Sung by Walter Munroe with great success.
Why is it wherever I chance to appear
I'm greeted so kindly by everyone here?
The reason you do it is this, it is clear,
Because I'm an Irishman.
And all the great singers, each one you deceives;
They say they're Italians, but who here believes
That either myself or my rival, Sims Reeves,
Are not thorough Irishmen.
And as for great writers, we Shakespeare have got;
Though some say that Bacon invented the lot;
But Shakespeare's grand plays, if you like it or not,
Were done by an Irishman.
Our worthy pianist brings harmony sweet,
And he, if you want just to stand him a treat.
Will drink Irish whiskey, And do it so neat-
He must be an Irishman.
When Adam and Eve their first little one had.
Said they, "What relation are we to the lad?"
Said Eve, "I'll be Ma;" said Adam, "I'll be Dad;"
Bedad, well that's Irish man.
Said they, "As to manhood one day he'll attain.
We'll give him a name;" so they christened him Cane;
Well, a cane's a shillelagh, so that proves again
That he was an Irishman.
To turn to to-day all the men of renown
From Julius Caesar, ah! right the way down
To great Bonaparte, who won such a crown.
Were all of them Irishmen.
And Gladstone, who once used to pose as a Scot,
And then as a Welshman, says English he's not;
I'll bet, when a little more cheek he has got,
he'll swear he's an Irishman.
The deaf folks are Irish, we all must confess.
For tho' they've left hearin'(Erin) they'd give none the less,
To come back to heatin' (Erin) nigh all they possess.
So they must be Irishmen.
With lame people also we score a good chalk;
For though in old England with one leg they walk,
You'll find that the other leg's always in Cork;
So they are half Irishmen.
And even the humble feline Thomas cat
Is Irish all over-you can't deny that;
If pleased or put out he will give you a pat;
And Pats are all Irichmen.
The poor married man, though a bit of a fool.
Is Irish, although his wife makes him her tool;
He'd give the whole world if he had the Home Rule;
So he's all an Irishman.
The new baby boy is quite Irish, you bet,
For no sooner does he In his petticoats get,
Than He's a boy cotted in his bassinette.
Boycotted like Irishman!
His trousers he tears, when for larks he's inclined;
His Pa overhauls him the damage to find.
Discovers, of course, that the rent is behind,
Like many poor Irishmen!
I proved I was Irish when I went to school.
Our master in drawing said I was a fool;
He said, "Draw a cow "-'twas myself made a bull.
Just like a true Irishman.
You'll say that much quicker this song ought to go;
But I can't sing It quick as I'll have you to know,
Because I was born down in BallinasloeThat's why I'm an Irishman!