Father Mooney

Faith, you must know I once was born, It was near the rock of Cashel O; My father's cow she wore a horn, And so did Tony Swatchell O! Says father Mooney, 'tis a shame That you will still keep doing this; You must do penance for the same, And I will tell you what it is.

Says he, Oh! be an honest man, And have the grace your debts to pay; Yes, Sir, says I, and off I ran, To have with Jane a bit of play, Ill luck the priest upon us sent, And up a whilliloo he set; Says I—a kiss to me she lent, And I was paying off the debt.

As on your sin the saints all peept, One year O, wine you must not sup; So in a quart a loaf I steept, I did not drink—I eat it up! Says he, "Child, walk upon your knees 'Till from your soul your sin is fled," Yes Sir, says I, but, if you please, It shall be in a strawberry bed.

He found me out, and swore in rage, Child, "go to hell," for that's your doom, Except you trudge on pilgrimage, To holy Thomas Becket's tomb. Last Lent came cockles mighty pat, And bread and butter was a treat, The cockle shells stuck on my hat, But first the cockles I did eat.