Irish Paddy

It's of an Irishman I'm going to tell you,
Free from Ireland, sailed away;
Where he was to, he was not contented,
Made up his mind for to go away.

Early next morning the ship was sailing,
Queenstown harbour, the Cobh of Cork;
Eight long days he was sailing over,
Till he landed in New York.

Up the street young Paddy wandered,
Each big building caught his eye;
Looking up at a big shop window,
A bottle of whisky he did spy.

Into the bar young Paddy entered,
Called for a drink, without delay;
Give me a drop of that Irish Whisky,
Four big coppers I will pay.

The landlord he jumped over the counter,
"Pay me down that bill," he said;
Paddy up with a big shillelagh,
Laid him on the floor right dead.

So the Yankees they came running,
When they heard about the row;
Trying to kill poor Irish Paddy,
Shouting out, "Where is he now?"

Irishmen they followed after,
Following without delay;
Each of them with a big shillelagh,
Made the Yankees run away.

May God's success to his Irish people,
Many's the country they have roamed;
But their courage is far bolder,
When they're far away from home.