The Irish Rovers - Patsy McCann Text

Songtext zu Patsy McCann

There's a man by the name of Mike Hogan
Who's plague-in' me out of me life,
He has a big daughter named Brigit
And he wants me to make her me wife.
She stands six foot four in her stockings
Her waist of me-self would make three
And whenever I'm standing beside her
Me elbows just reach to her knees.

Chorus:

Patsy McCann will you marry me daughter,
Oh! Patsy McCann she's the girl you'll wed;

Ten golden sovereigns down I will give you,
A three legged stool and a fine feather bed.
Saint Peter, Saint Paul and Saint Patrick
All the pictures that hang on the wall,
I'll throw them all into the bargain,
If you'll marry my daughter at all.

Now he says to me now look here Patsy,
You may travel the country around
And you'll say when you've finished your traveling
That a better girl couldn't be found.
I can't walk a yard in the street, sure,
Neither by night or by day
For now there's a lot of blackguards
Who mimic the old man and say:

Well I married that big Brigit Hogan
And she's mine now for better or worse,
But the blessing that she should have brought me
Would appear to have changed a curse.
She strikes me and bites me and flays me
She ties me lest I run away,
This six foot four beauty's a caution
But her father was worse for to say: -

The Irish Rovers - Patsy McCann Songtext

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