Matty
Matty went out on a frozen nightMaking for the pub, shoulders hunched up tightHis head down on the railroad trackHis old cow Delia sad, lowin’ him back
He met with a dark and a troubled manAs he passed him by, called back at him“Matty can’t you see what’s become of meIn this country of the blind?”
The house I’ve left is dead to meTo me rhyming and me poetryAll I’ve got is the beat of the staggerAs I’m heading down the Curragh Line
Matty passed on as quick as he couldCouldn’t stand such a crooked man soberAll he wanted was the lights of the barIn the Nightingale and the Wild Rover
Oh, when he came inThey were sayin’, “Look he’s backOh, did Delia drive you outWith your spoutin’ and your swearin’?We don’t want to hear about the Bunker HaydenMaybe you’ll sing us the Girls of Kinkane”
The fear an tí eyed him steadilyHe handed him a pint of porterSayin’, “You musta seen the bishop’s ghost tonightTo put the dry look back in your eye”
Ah, but Matty would not be taken inBy their jibin’ and their regalin’He found himself a fresh blown crewAnd fell in with their sportin’ and their bailin’
As he was going home, in the very same spotHe met with his dark familiarHe seen him comin’ back down the lineAnd he was bright and strange and fine
As he passed him by Matty threw out his armsTried to grab hold of his likenessIn the morning all we found was his frozen corpseAt the butt of the Curragh Line
At the wake they were lashin’ outThe drops of brandy, the ould fashioned habitIn the church, lashin’ down pounds and fiversSo Matty would be fine in the old by and by
Matty went out on a frozen nightMaking for the pub, shoulders hunched up tightIn the morning all we found was his frozen corpseAt the butt of the Curragh Line
At the wake they were lashin’ outThe drops of brandy, the ould fashioned habitIn the church, they were lashin’ down pounds and fiversSo Matty would be fine in the old by and by