Ragged Pat - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
RAGGED PAT. 
Now all you young gents to my song lend your ear, Tis about a poor Irishman whose name Was Pat Clere; His clothes were all patches, and torn was his hat, So they called him the name of poor Ragged Pat. 
Chorus. Oh! boy, Paddy whack! A cat won't catch mice if put in a sack. 
On Sunday, at church, his coat was of black, With a big ivory button sewed into its back, And his breeches were blue, the cloth very coarse, He'd look like a clown if he sat on a horse.-Chorus. 
Now this gent, Ragged Pat, although he was poor, Sickness, no matter what sort, he could cure; With a measure of oats, another of grass, He could take away glanders from any jackass.-Chorus. 
His eyes they were black, and his voice was so sweet, He stood up for the laws and on Friday eat meat; On the Sabbath at church he'd sure shut his eyes, With his big mouth wide open, as if catching flies.-Chorus. 
As you gave close attention I'll here end my song, Although full of pathos, yet not very long; In the churchyard of Erin, far under the sod, Lies poor Ragged Pat, but trustful in God.-Chorus.