(or The Pride of Petravore)
EILEEN OGE! An’ that the darlin’s name is,
Through the barony her features they were famous;
If we loved her who is there to blame us,
For wasn’t she the Pride of Petravore?
But her beauty made us all so shy,
Not a man could look her in the eye,
Boys, O boys! Sure that’s the reason why
We’re mournin’ for the Pride of Petravore.
Eileen Oge! me heart is growin’ grey
Ever since the day you wandered far away;
Eileen Oge! there’s good fish in the say,
But there’s no one like the Pride of Petravore.
Friday at the fair of Ballintubber,
Eileen met McGrath the cattle jobber,
I’d like to set me mark upon the robber,
For he stole away the Pride of Petravore.
He never seem’d to see the girl at all,
Even when she ogled him underneath her shawl,
Lookin’ big and masterful when she was lookin’ small,
Most provoking for the pride of Petravore.
So it went as it was in the beginning,
Eileen Oge was bent upon the winning;
Big McGrath contentedly was grinning,
Being courted by the Pride of Petravore.
Sez he “I know a girl that could knock you into fits,”
At that Eileen nearly lost her wits,
The upshot of the ruction was that now the robber sits
With his arm around the Pride of Petravore
Boys, O boys! With fate ‘tis hard to grapple,
Of my eye ‘tis Eileen was the apple,
And now to see her walkin’ to the Chapel
Wid the hardest featured man in Petravore.
Now boys this is all I have to say;
When you do your courtin’ make no display,
If you want them to run after you just walk the other way,
For they’re mostly like the Pride of Petravore.
French, Percy. (1980) ‘Prose, Poems & Parodies.’ Dublin, Helicon Limited