When first I saw sweet Peggy, 'Twas on a market day, A low-backed car She drove, and sat Upon a truss of hay; But when that hay was blooming grass, And decked with flowers of Spring, No flow'r was there That could compare With the blooming girl I sing. As she sat in her low-backed car - The man at the turnpike bar Never asked for the toll, But just rubbed his owld poll And looked after the low-backed car. In battle's wild commotion, The proud and mighty Mars, With hostile scythes, Demands his tithes Of death - in warlike cars; While Peggy, peaceful goddess, Has darts in her bright eye, That knock men down, In the market town, As right and left they fly - While she sits in her low-backed car, Than battle more dangerous far - For the doctor's art, Cannot cure the heart That is hit from that low-backed car. |
Sweet Peggy round her car, sir Has strings of ducks and geese, But the scores of hearts she slaughters, By far outnumber these; While she among her poultry sits, Just like a turtle dove Well worth the cage, I do engage, Of the blooming god of Love! While she sits in her low-back'd car, The lovers come near and far, And envy the chicken, that Peggy is pickin' While she sits in her low-back'd car. I'd rather own that car, sir! With Peggy by my side, Than a coach and four, and gold galore And a lady for my bride. For the lady would sit fornisnt me, On a cushion made with taste, While Peggy would sit beside me, With my arm around her waist. As we drove in the low-back'd car, To be married by Father Maher, Oh, my heart would beat high At her glance and her sigh, Tho' it beat in a low-back'd car. |
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