In the Land of Hibernia

In the Land of Hibernia

In the land of Hibernia young Pat drew his breath,And sure ever since he has teased me to death.For so sweetly he sings and makes love with such art,By the faith of St Patrick’s he’s shot thro’ my heart.With his Gramachree Molly och what shall I do?By the faith of St Patrick’s he’s shot thro’ my heart,With his Gramachree Molly och what shall I do!

He vows, if I’ll enter the conjugal life,He’ll, oh! to be sure, only make me a wife:Then, so tender he looks when we lovingly chat,That I long to be married – but wo’n’t tell him that.With his Gramachree Molly, och, &c.

Last Sunday, at church, he must fain tell the priest,In a week or two more we are wedded at least;And sure, since he said it, my conscience will say,If he don’t lead me there, I will show him the way.With his Gramachree Molly, och, &c.