3
The jolly boy, the darling joy, the ladies' toy,
Nimble-footed, black-ey'd, rosy-cheek'd,
O Curly-headed Paddy Carey!
O, sweet Paddy, beautiful Paddy!
Nate little, tight little Paddy Carey.
His heart was made of Irish oak,
Yet soft as streams from sweet Killarney,
His tongue was tipt with a hit o' the brogue,
But deuce a bit at all of the blarney.
Now Sergeant Snap, so sly and keen,
While Pat was coaxing duck-legg'd Mary,
A shilling slipt, so nate and clane,
By the powers! he listed Paddy Carey!
Tight and sound—strong and light,—
Cheeks so round—eyes so bright,—
Whistling, humming, drinking, drumming,
Light, tight, and airy!
All the sweet faces at Limerick races, &c.
The sowls wept loud, the crowd was great,
When waddling forth came widow Leary;
Though she was crippled in her gait,
Her brawny arms clasp'd Paddy Carey;
'Och, Pat!' she cri'd—'go, huy the ring;
Here's cash galloire, my darling honey;'
Says Pat, 'you sowl! I'll do that thing,'
And clapt his thumb upon her money.
A2
