- sung by John McCormick, 1913 (1884-1945)|
Ah! then, ma'am, dear, did you never hear of purty Molly Brallaghan?|
Troth, dear, I've lost her, and I'll never be a man again;
Not a spot on my hide will the summer's sun e'er tan agin,
Since Molly she has left me all alone to die.
The place where my beart was you might easy roll a turnip in,
It's the size of all Dublin, and from Dublin to the Divil's Glin;
If she choose to take another, sure she might have sent mine back
And not to leave me here all alone for to die!
Ma'am, dear, I remember when the milking time was past and gone,
We went into the meadows, where she swore I was the only man
That ever she could love yet, oh! the base, the cruel one,
After all that to leave me here alone to die!
Ma'am, dear, I remember as we came home the rain began;
I rolled her in my frieze coat, tho' the divil a waiscoat I had on,
And my shirt was rather fine-drawn; yet, oh! the base and cruel one,
After all that she's left me here alone for to die!
I went and told my tale to Father M'Donnell, ma'am,
And then I went and ax'd advice of Councillor O'Connell, ma'am.
He told me promise-breeches had been ever since the world began -
Now, I have only one pair, ma'am, and they are corduroy!
Arrah! what could he mean, ma'am, or what would you advise me to?
Must my corduroys to Molly go? - in troth I'm bothered what to do.
I can't afford to lose both my heart and my breeches, too;
Yet what need I care when I've only to die!
Oh! the left side of my carcase is as weak as water gruel, ma'am,
The divil a bit upon my bones since Molly's proved so cruel,
I wish I had a carbine, I'd go and fight a duel, ma'am - ma'am.
Sure it's better for to kill myself than stay here to die!
I'm hot and determined as a live salamander, ma'am;
Won't you come to my wake when I go my long meander, ma'am?
Oh! I feel myself as valiant as the famous Alexander, ma'am,
When I hear ye cryin' round me, "Arrah! why did you die?"
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