~~ 469 ~~
~~~ Mary ~~~
Young Mary comes home to her mother
"We started just drinkin' plain singles
"I got hot, then removed my attire,
He told us to dress and be decent,
"Just wait till you hear from your father"
When her father got home he was livid,
©July 1, 2001
~~ 470 ~~
~~~~ Patrick ~~~
Patrick came home from the brewery,
He started each day in the morning,
He was one of those many vat testers,
Patrick would walk every morning,
Now, Mary that poor wife of Patrick's
So Patrick applied to the brewer,
His Mary was full of excitement,
But due to poor Patrick's affliction,
So Mary she had an idea,
But Patrick he whispered to Mary,
©July 1. 2001
~~~ 471 ~~
~~~ Patrick and Michael and Mary ~~~
The greenest of places is Ireland,
Patrick he worked in a brewery,
Now, Patrick and Michael loved Mary,
They wooed her with chocolates and flowers,
The three of them went out together,
They started to drinkin' and fightin',
'Cos, Mary she loved only Patrick,
So she sat Michael down at her table,
©July 2, 2001
~~ 472 ~~
~~~ Patrick and Mary ~~~
Patrick he married sweet Mary,
They moved to a cottage in Dublin,
There wasn't no work there for Patrick,
So, he stayed home to keep Mary happy,
Soon Patrick he got kinda' tired,
Now Mary she had a bad temper,
That's when those things, they got nasty,
Poor Mary she broke down in tears,
©July 2,2001
~~ 473 ~~
~~~ Poor, Poor Sweet Mary ~~~
Patrick went home to his mother,
His mother said, "Patrick me darlin',
So Patrick replied to his mother,
"You cannot stay here", cried his mother,
"But mother dear mother", Cried Patrick,
"You'd better go back to your Mary",
"Tell her your gonna' forgive her,
So Patrick went home to his Mary,
Then Patrick went round to that hotel,
It seems that, that silly fool Michael,
And the weather was up in the forties,
Now Patrick is left in a quandary,
©July 3, 2001
~~ 474 ~~
~~~ The Loss of that Sweet Darlin' Mary ~~~
Poor Patrick was so devastated,
A priest he said words at her grave side,
Then the bulk of that whole congregation,
Poor Patrick he couldn't contain it,
They toasted to sweet Mary's passing,
Now, Patrick he got kinda' cranky,
Then all of that crowd started fightin',
Then every one froze just like statue's,
She scream and she yelled out at Patrick
"You left me alone with that Michael,
Patrick he pleaded to Mary,
©July 4, 2001
~~ 475 ~~
~~~ The Passing of Patrick ~~~
Patrick went home to his mother,
He shed a few tears on that journey,
Patrick, has got his job back at the brewery,
He heads off to work every morning,
The town set their clocks by his rambling's,
Poor Patrick just drunk and kept drinking,
One Sat'day a funny thing happened,
Some say that he drowned that first instant,
©July 4, 2001
~~ 476 ~~
~~~ The Re-union of Patrick and Mary ~~~
Patrick he floated to heaven,
He was met at the gate by St. Peter,
Those gates they were opened for Patrick,
"Your Mary she waits by that fountain,
When Patrick he spotted sweet Mary,
Mary forgave dearest Patrick,
"'Cos you can't hide your sausage in heaven,
"But there's a lot to be said for old Satan,
©July 4, 2001
And cried. "Oh my poor mother dear,
I've been out with the boys drinkin' whisky
And I'm pregnant, I'm sure, that I fear".
Then, it 'twas doubles and triple's", she cried
"Then we started to drink from the bottle,
Until we was totally fried".
And the others, did the same just as I.
And we started to play hide the sausage
But we stopped, when our priest he came by".
And to stop or we'd all go to hell.
"But I fear, dear mother, that I'm pregnant"
Mary cried as her tears they did swell.
Her poor, dear old mother did scream.
"You'll wish that you never drunk whisky
And those games that you played were a dream".
He ranted and slammed all the doors,
And he said as he yelled at poor Mary,
"JUST BLOODY WELL MAKE SURE IT'S YOURS".
Where he worked as a tester you see.
He'd test all the whisky and beer,
And get drunk every day just for free.
At nine every day on the dot.
He'd be pickled by ten in the evenin',
After testing each vat that they got.
That was held with the highest esteem.
And to have a position like Patrick's,
Was every ones ultimate dream.
To that brewery built high on the hill.
Then, he'd roll back down home every evenin',
After paddy had gotten his fill.
His loving and de-voted spouse,
Got tired of that job of her Patrick's,
And threaten, to throw him right out of their house.
To change all his hours you see.
So Patrick would always be sober,
When he came home for his tea.
When Patrick rushed in through the door.
To tell his sweet spouse, darlin' Mary,
He'd be workin' from eight until to four.
Of sleeping at night like the dead.
Poor Mary she had lots of trouble,
Of getting him out of their bed.
And alarm clock will do me just fine.
So she set it for seven to wake Patrick,
To get him to work right on time.
"I just can't understand it my dear.
Why set that alarm clock for seven
When there's only just two of us here?"
And love flourishes there every day.
Here's a story 'bout three Irish people,
Three lovers, I s'pose you could say.
And Michael did nothing but think,
And Mary she was the young barmaid,
Where Patrick and Michael would drink.
They'd been smitten, by wee cupids darts,
And they'd promised to love her forever,
With both of their sweet Irish hearts.
And brought whisky for her dear old dad,
And they promised her mother they'd marry,
If Mary would give them her hand.
To dances and parties to boast,
And Patrick would argue with Michael,
As to who did love Mary the most.
Over sweet little Mary's hand,
The ruckus could be heard in Australia,
And Mary did not understand.
She loved him as much as could be.
So she told that sad tale unto Michael,
But poor Michael he just couldn't see.
And said to him, "Sweet Michael Dear,
I don't love you; I can't bloody stand you,
So please get the fuck outa' here".
He loved her with all of his heart,
And he promised to her as they married,
To keep her, and never to part.
And Mary kept workin' you see-
Pullin' beer at the old local hotel,
And Patrick stayed home cookin' tea.
'Cos brewing was all Patrick knew,
And the brewery's in Dublin were full up,
And there was nothin' for Patrick to do.
Buy washin' and scrubbin' the floors.
But poor Patrick's heart wasn't in it,
And he wished he was home on the moors.
Of stayin' home makin' the bed.
So he started to visit that hotel,
And started drinkin' and fightin' instead.
And started to scream and to shout.
And banned him from drinkin' his beer,
His whisky, his rum and his stout.
He told Mary, he just didn't care,
And she could stick her old pub and her marriage,
He was leavin' and weren't stayin' here.
And pulled her long hair as she said.
"If I'd known you were such a bastard,
I'd of married poor Michael instead".
Since Mary had thrown him out.
He was glad to have peace and have quiet,
After hearing his sweet Mary shout.
What ever has bought you back home,
I thought you was in Dublin with Mary,
Well you was, when I spoke on the phone?"
"O' mother, o' mother me dear,
I just couldn't live there with Mary,
That's why, I have come back home here".
"'Cos there's not enough room don't you see.
And you don't have a job, you're not workin'
So how can you pay for your tea?"
What else in the world would I do,
'Cos Mary she yells like a wharfie,
And she makes me all sad and all blue?"
Said mother, "Back to that sweet so and so.
Just listen to your dear old mother
And get off your backside and go".
For all of those faults that she had.
And she'd better behave like a good wife,
Or she'll be the one that is sad".
To find Michael asleep on the floor.
Patrick shook him and woke him completely,
And threw straight out of the door.
Where Mary she worked 'hind the bar.
To hear that sad tale of sweet Mary,
Of how she got stuck in her car.
Had took Mary to work for a shout.
And it seems that he locked that poor Mary,
In the car and she couldn't get out.
And the keys they had dropped on floor.
And poor Mary she just suffocated,
'Cos Michael; couldn't open the door.
As he walks around town with a frown.
And he wonders why sweet darlin' Mary,
Didn't, just wind all the windows right down.
At the loss of sweet Mary his wife.
And he couldn't believe that sad story,
How Mary had lost her young life.
He said, " Dear God just how could it be.
That you sat in that car for so long dear,
And didn't know how to get free."
Looked down and wept at their loss-
Of sweet young and poor darlin' Mary,
Who is now in the arms of her boss.
His grief, I am talkin' 'bout here.
So he called on that whole congregation,
To a wake and to oddles of beer.
And said what a beauty she'd been.
Then Michael broke down and he told them,
She was the prettiest girl that he'd seen.
And he started to scream and to shout.
Then he grabbed Michael under the collar,
And promptly knocked poor Michael out.
And to punchin' and kickin' non stop,
Till the old priest he yelled out for quiet,
Or he'd send out and call for a cop.
And Michael got up off that floor.
As that ghostly white figure of Mary,
Came floating right through their front door.
And asked why he had left her, then said.
"Look at me now Patrick darlin',
I'm stiff and I'm white and I'm dead."
And you went runnin' home to your da'.
And you let that dumb fool of a Michael
Let me die locked in a car."
"You had the keys to that car", Patrick cried.
"I know", Said sweet Mary to Patrick,
"But the lock it was on the outside."
And left his poor sweetheart behind.
Mary was buried in Dublin,
And Patrick was sure she won't mind.
For that girl he had left in the ground.
She'll remain in his heart there forever,
When he hears her sweet name and its sound.
Sampling vast droplets of beer.
But Patrick he's never got over,
The loss of his sweet Mary dear.
Exactly at quarter to eight,
'Cos Mary had made sure that Patrick,
Would never go off to work late.
For their breakfast's and dinner's to dine.
And when he went home of an evening,
Their clocks and the church bells would chime.
He took blame for Mary's demise.
And the town couldn't sleep of an evening,
For his howls and his re-peated cries.
Poor Patrick fell into a vat.
They said he'd been leaning right over,
To try and retrieve his old hat.
But others they did not agree.
'Cos, they reckon that dear old Patrick,
Got out twenty times for a pee.
Up to where Mary should be.
He rose through the ground and his tomb-stone,
And up through the branches of trees.
Who asked him his name and his make.
He said he was Irish and Patrick,
And Mary was holding his stake.
And St. Peter said, "Your welcome here,
But remember please Patrick your manners,
And don't you bring in any beer."
To show you the place you're to be.
But remember please Patrick no beer,
Then everything else here is free."
His heart it just stopped, missed a beat.
And he asked his forgiveness of Mary,
As he fell to the ground at her feet.
And she knew that it needn't be said.
"But, what's the use of forgiving each other,
If we're both up in heaven and dead?"
Those games have been totally banned.
Sex is a thing of the past dear,
And you can't even use your own hand."
And that place down below that he dwells.
You're aloud to have sex, beer and biscuits,
So why do that call that place hell?"