Old leather breeches

Lyrics

It was at the sign of the Bell on the road to Clonmel
Paddy Hegarty kept a neat shebeen
He sold pig’s meat and bread, kept a good lodging bed
And so well liked round the country had been
Himself and his wife both struggled thro’ life.
In the week days Pat mended the ditches
But on Sunday he dressed in a coat of the best
But his pride was his old leather breeches

For twenty-one years at least, so it appears
His father those breeches had run in
The morning he died, he to his bedside
Called Paddy, his beautiful son in
Advice then he gave ere he went to the grave
He bid them take care of his riches
Says he ‘it’s no use to pop into my shoes
But I’d wish you’d step into my breeches’

Last winter the snow left provisions so low
Poor Paddy was eat out completely
The snow coming down, he could not go to town
Thoughts of hunger soon bothered him greatly
One night as he lay dreaming away
About big dogs and frogs and bad witches.
He heard an uproar just outside of the door.
And he jumpt to steal on his ould leather breeches

Says Bryan M’Guirk, with a voice like a Turk
Paddy come get us some eating
Says big Andy Moore, I’ll burst open the door
For this is no night to be waiting
Scarce had he spoke when the door went in broke
And they crowded round Paddy like leeches
By the great mortal gob, if he didn’t get them prog
They’d eat him clean out of his breeches

Now Paddy in dread slipt Into his bed
That held Judy, his darling wife in
And there he agreed to get them a feed
He slipt out and brought a big knife in
He took up the waist of his breeches, the baste
And cut out the buttons and stitches
And cut them in strips, by the way they were tripes
And boiled them, his ould leather breeches

When the tripes were stewed on a dish they were strewed
The boys all cried out, Lord be thanked
But Hegarly’s wife was afraid of her life
She thought it high time for to shank it
To see how they smiled for they thought Pat had boiled
Some mutton and beef of the richest
But little they knew it was leather burgoo.
That was made out of Paddy’s ould leather breeches

They wollip’t the stuff, says Andy it’s tough
Says Paddy you’re no judge of mutton
When Bryan M’Guirk, on the point of a fork
Lifted up a big ivory button
Says Darby, what’s that? sure I thought it was fat
Bryan leaps on his legs, and he screeches
By the powers above, I was trying to shove
My teeth trough the flap of his breeches

They made at Pat, he was gone out of that
He run when he found them all risingĀ­
Says Bryan, make haste, and go for the priest
By the holy Saint Jackstone, I’m poisoned
Revenge for the joke they had, for they broke
All the chairs, tables, bowls and dishes
And from that very night they will knock out your daylight
If they catch you with leather breeches


Notes


Song Clip


County

Tipperary


Songwriter