Greenfields Együttes - St. Patrick Was A Gentleman

Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people.
In Dublin town he built a church and put it on a steeple.
His father was a Callahan his mother was a Grady,
his aunt was an O’ Shaughnessy, and his uncle was a Brady.

There’s not a mile in Ireland’s Isle
where the dirty vermin musters,
where’er he put his dear forefoot he murder’d them in clusters.
The toads went hop, the frogs went plop,
slap das into the water,
and the beasts committed suicide
to save themselves from slaughter.

The Wicklow hills are very high, and so’s the hill of Howth, sir,
but there’s a hill much higher still,
ay, higher than them both, sir.
’Twas on the top of his hill St. Patrick preach’d the „sarmint”,
that drove the frogs into the bogs,
and bothered all the „varmint”.

No wonder that the Irish lads should be so gay and risky,
sure St. Pat he taught them that as well as making whiskey.
No wonder that the saint himself should understand distilling,
for his mother kept a shebeen shop in the town of Enniskillen.

Then success to bold St. Patrick’s fist. He was a saint so clever.
He gave the snakes and awful twist
and banished them for ever.
Lalalalala...