PAT'S EXCELSIOR
by
Anonymous

‘Twas growing dark so terrible fasht
Whin through a town up the mountain there pashed
A broth of a boy, to his neck in the shnow
As he walked, his shillelagh he swung to and fro
Saying “It’s till the top I’m bound to go
Be jabers!”

He looked mortal sad, and his eyes was bright
As a fire of turf on a cowld winther night
And niver a w ord that he said could ye tell
As he opened his mouth and let out a yell
“It’s up to the top of the mountain I’ll go
Unless covered up wid this bothersome shnow
Be jabers!”

Through the windows he saw as he travelled along
The light of a candle and fires so warm
But a big chunk of ice hung over his head
With a snivel and groan, “By St Patrick,” he said
“It’s up to the very tip-top I will rush
And then if it falls it’s not meself it’ll crush,
Be jabers!”

“Whist a bit,” said an ould man whose head was white
As the shnow that fell down on that miserable night,
“Shure ye’ll fall in the wather, me bit of a lad
For the night is so dark and the walkin’ is bad.”
Bedad he’d not lisht to a word that was said
But he’d go till the top, if he wint on his head
Be jabers!”

A bright buxom young girl, such as like to be kissed
Axed him couldn’t he shtop and how could he resist?
So snapping his fingers, and winking his eye
While smiling upon her he made this reply
“Faith, I meant to kape on till I got to the top
But as yer shwate self has axed me, I may as well shtop
Be jabers!”

He shtopped all night, and shtopped all day
And yer mus’n’t be axin whin he did go away
For wouldn’t he be a bastely gossoon
To be lavin’ his darlint in the shwate honeymoon
Whin the old man has praties enough and to spare
Shure he might as well stay, if he’s comfortable there
Be jabers!