The Hackler The Mary Wallopers

Well, I am a roving hackler lad that loves the Shamrock shore
And me name is Pat McDonnell and me age is eighty-four
Beloved and well-respected by me neighbours one and all
On Patrick's Day I like to stray round Lavey and Grouse Hall

When I was young I danced and sung and drank strong whiskey too
And in shebeen shop that sold a drop of real oul mountain dew
With poteen still on every hill the peelers had no call
Round sweet Stradone I am well-known, round Lavey and Grouse Hall

I used to go from town to town, for hacklin' was me trade
And I can't deny I thought that I an honest living made
Where'ere I'd strayed by night or day the youth would always call
All to have the craic with Paddy Jack, the Hackler from Grouse Hall

Now, I think it's strange how very much how the times have changed of late
Coercion now is all the row with Peelers on their bate
To take a glass is now alas the greatest crime of all
Since Balfour placed that hungry beast, the Sergeant to Grouse Hall

Oh, that busy tool of Castle rule he wanders night and day
Sure, he'd take a goat all by the throat for want of better prey
That nasty skunk, he'd swear you're drunk though you've had none at all
Oh, there is no peace around the place since he came to Grouse Hall

He'd run pell-mell down into hell to search for poteen there
And sure wouldn't be 'llowed to swear an oath to be founded in Killinkere
He'll search your bed from foot to head, sheets, blankets, tick and all
And your wife undressed must leave the nest for Jemmy from Grouse Hall