The Ballad of Mccarty's Trombone

Sure, Felix McCarty he lived all alone / On the top av a hill be the town av Athione, / And the pride av his heart was a batthered trombone, / That he played in an iligant style av his own. / And often I've heard me ould grandfather say, / That, long as he lived, on Saint Patherick's Day, / the minute the dawn showed the first streak av gray / McCarty would rise and this tune he would play:

"Pertaters and fishes make very good dishes, / Saint Patherick's Day in the mornin'! " / With tootin' and blowin' he kept it a-goin', / For rest was a thing he was scornin'; / And thim that were lazy could niver lie aisy, / But jumped out av bed at the warnin'; / For who could be stayin' aslape with him playin' / "Saint Patherick's Day in the mornin'?"