Lannigan's Ball

Saint Patrick was a GentlemanHe came from descent peopleHe built a church in Dublin townAnd on it he put a steepleThe Wicklow hills are very highAnd so is the hill of Howth sirBut there's a hill much higher stillMuch higher than them both sirOn top of this high hillSt Patrick preached a sermonDrove the frogs into the bogsAnd he vanished all the verminThere's not a mile of Eireann's IsleWhere dirty vermin mustersThere he put his dear forefootAnd murdered them in clustersThe frogs went hop and the toads went popSlapdash into the waterThe snakes committed suicideTo save themselves from slaughter900,000 reptiles blueHe charmed with sweet discoursesDined on them in KillaloeOn soups and second coursesBlind worms crawling in the grassDisgusted all the nationRight down to hell with a holy spellHe changed their situationWas I but so fortunateTo be back in home in MunsterI'd be bound that from that groundI never more would once stirThere St Patrick planted turfCabbages and pratiesPigs galore, mo grá, mo stóirAltar boys and ladiesIn the town of Athy, one Jeremy Lanigan battered away till he hadn't a shillingHis father died, made him a man again, left him a farm and ten acres of groundHe threw a grand party for friends and relations, hadn't forgot them when it came to the willIf you'll but listen I'll make your eyes glisten at rousing, rusing at Lannigan's BallSix long months I spent in Dublin, six long months doing nothing at all,Six long months I spent in Dublin, learning to dance for Lannigan's ball.Six long months I spent in Dublin, six long months doing nothing at all,Six long months I spent in Dublin, learning to dance for Lannigan's ball.There was lashings of drink wine for the ladies, pipes, tabaccy, brandy and teaNolans and Dolans and all the O'Gradys, courting the girls and dancing awayWell the boys were merry and the girls all hearty dancing around in their couples and groupsAn accident happened; Terence McCarthy; He put his boot through Miss Finnerty's hoopsYou've heard of St. Guinness of France, he never had a pulpit to brag onYou've heard of St. George and his lance, he killed the old heathenous dragonThe saints of the Welshmen and Scots they're a couple of pitiful pipersThey might as well go to pot when compared to the patron of vipers!St. Patrick was a gentlemanHe came from descent peopleHe built a church in Dublin townAnd on it he put a steepleThe Wicklow hills are very highAnd so is the hill of Howth sirBut there's a hill much higher stillMuch higher than them both sirOn top of this high hillSt Patrick preached a sermonDrove the frogs into the bogsAnd he vanished all the verminThere's not a mile of Eireann's IsleWhere dirty vermin mustersThere he put his dear forefootAnd murdered them in clustersThe frogs went hop and the toads went popSlapdash into the waterThe snakes committed suicideTo save themselves from slaughter900,000 reptiles blueHe charmed with sweet discoursesMurdered them in KillaloeOn soups and second coursesBoys oh boys 'tis then there was ructions, I got a belt from Phelim Mc HughI replied to his introduction, kicked up a terrible hullabaloo.Moloney the piper was near gettin' strangled, pipes, bellows, regulator, changer and allHis Pipe and his pipes they all got entangled and that put an end to Lannigan's ball