There's a story about a fellow
who walked into a pub,
a waterside cafe,
and said, I want a scotch and soda,
make it fast.
The bartender says,
you want a scotch and soda, sir?
You can have it quickly.
The first fellow says, bartender,
you make a foot of me.
The bartender says,
no, I'm not making a foot of you.
At that point, another customer came in and said, give
me a scotch and soda, bartender.
Bartender says,
sure, you want a scotch and soda,
here it is.
The first fellow was very angry,
says, Bartender,
I thought you said
you wanted to make a fun
of me.
Bartender says, I'm not making fun of you,
I'm making fun of him.
In this song, the Irish are making fun, in a way,
of the Irish.
of some of the Maudlin songs
which became popular many,
many years ago.
And with all the jokes in this song,
with all the humor,
with all the poke and fun,
it still turns out to be what
I think one of the loveliest.
It's called Molly Brannigan.
["Molly Brannigan"]
How, 'am dear,
did you ever hear of pretty
Molly Brannigan?
Hey, she's gone and left me
and I'll never be a man again.
Not a spot on my hide
will another summer tan again.
Since Molly's gone
and left me all alone for to die.
The spot where me heart was
you could easy roll a tarlet in
As big as any paving stone,
from Dublin to the Devil's Glen
She had to take another heart,
she might have give mine back again
And not have left me weeping all
along for to die
I can remember when the milk in time
was passed and gone
She took me to the meadow
and she swore I was the only one
Ever she loved all the face of a cruel one
After that delayed me all alone for to die
Sure I can remember,
as we walked out, the rain begun,
I clothed her in me pantaloons,
her devil a waistcoat had I on,
my shirt it was to find run,
not the base, the cruel one,
after that to leave me all alone,
full to die.
They decide of me bodies
as weak
as what a cruel man,
And devil a bit upon me bones
since Molly Booth's a cruel man.
If I had a blunderbuss,
go and fight a duel, 'am,
But what need I care
when I am only to die?
I feel myself as weak
as man is meant to man,
will you come into my wake
when I call that last meander,
'am?
I feel myself as valiant
as the gallant Alexander,
ma 'am,
when I hear you cry around my grave,
Why did he die?