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It's many's the year I've been at this game,
Sellin' me wares in sunshine and rain;
Me father and mother the same as me,
On the day I was born I knew who I'd be.
I'm Paddy the peddler from Patrick Street,
I peddle to all kind I happen to meet;
But peddling's me own trade, me only job,
I earn a fair living and I make a few bob.
I know that me sales-talk may not be smart,
Mixing with gentry I never had heart;
But most all the folks that stop for a look,
Go away with a pie or a second-hand book.
I'm Paddy the peddler from Patrick Street,
I peddle to all kind I happen to meet;
But peddling's me own trade, me only job,
I earn a fair living and I make a few bob.
I met the young Garda, he was seven feet tall,
He's seen some things and worked by the law,
He solemnly declared 'fore his crossing the waves;
I looked in his eyes and he heard me say:
I'm Paddy the peddler from Patrick Street,
I peddle to all kind I happen to meet;
But peddling's me own trade, me only job,
I earn a fair living and I make a few bob.
I know that in years I'm getting on,
The time I have left can't be very long;
I make sure I'm ready, me peace I've made,
And if I be in heaven I'll still do King's Praise.
I'm Paddy the peddler from Patrick Street,
I peddle to all kind I happen to meet;
But peddling's me own trade, me only job,
I earn a fair living and I make a few bob.
