James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
March 17St. Patrick Was a Gentleman
By Henry BennettO
Who came of decent people;
He built a church in Dublin town,
And on it put a steeple.
His father was a Gallagher;
His mother was a Brady;
His aunt was an O’Shaughnessy,
His uncle an O’Grady.
So, success attend St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s a saint so clever;
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
And so’s the Hill of Howth, sir;
But there’s a hill, much bigger still,
Much higher nor them both, sir.
’Twas on the top of this high hill
St. Patrick preached his sarmint
That drove the frogs into the bogs,
And banished all the varmint.
So, success attend St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s a saint so clever;
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
Where dirty varmin musters,
But there he put his dear fore-foot,
And murdered them in clusters.
The toads went pop, the frogs went hop,
Slap-dash into the water;
And the snakes committed suicide
To save themselves from slaughter.
So, success attend St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s a saint so clever;
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
He charmed with sweet discourses,
And dined on them at Killaloe
In soups and second courses.
Where blind worms crawling in the grass
Disgusted all the nation,
He gave them a rise, which opened their eyes
To a sense of their situation.
So, success attend St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s a saint so clever;
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
Should be so gay and frisky,
For sure St. Pat. he taught them that,
As well as making whiskey;
No wonder that the saint himself
Should understand distilling,
Since his mother kept a shebeen shop
In the town of Enniskillen.
So, success attend St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s a saint so clever;
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist,
And bothered them forever!
As to be back in Munster,
’Tis I’d be bound that from that ground
I never more would once stir.
For there St. Patrick planted turf,
And plenty of the praties,
With pigs galore, ma gra, ma ’store,
And cabbages—and ladies!
Then my blessing on St. Patrick’s fist,
For he’s the darling saint O!
O! he gave the snakes and toads a twist;
He’s a beauty without paint O!