Pat of Mullingar

They talk of Flying Childers or the speed of Harkaway
Till the fancy it bewilders you as you list to what they say;
But for real bones and beauty though you travel far and near,
The fastest mare you'll find belongs to Pat of Mullingar.


She can trot along,jog along, drag a jaunting car,
No day's too long when set along by Pat of Mullingar.

She was bred in Connemara and brought upin castlemaine,
She won cups on the Curragh,the best beast on all the plain;
All countries and conveyances she has been buckled to,
She lost an eye at Limerick and an ear at Waterloo.

If a friend you want to find sir, I'll go where'er you want,
I'll drive you out of your mind, sir, or a little way beyond,
Like an arrow through the air if you'll step up on the car
You'll ride behind the little mare of Pat from Mullingar.

If Dollymount or Howth head is the place you want to see
OrI'll drive you to the strawberry beds, its all the same to me;
To Donnybrooke, whose ancient fair is famed for love of war,
Or if you have the time to spare,we'll go to Mullingar.

When on the road we're going, the other carmen try,
Without the darling knowing, to pass her on the sly;
Her one ear points up to the sky, she tucks her haunches in,
Then shows the lads how she can fly as I sit still and grin.

Then would you want a car, sirs, I hope you'll not forget
Poor Pat of Mullingar, sirs, and his darling little pet;
She's gentle on the dove, sirs, her speed you can't deny
And there's no blind side about her, though she's only got one eye.