Timothy Murphy kept the pledge For nearly fourteen year, But Christmas even' he felt so bad, He got out on the beer; Oh, he came home like a roaring lion Filled up with rum and gin, For he's like a Bengal tiger When he gets a mouthful in.
There's not a porch for half a mile That came in Murphy's sight, But felt his hob-nailed bluchers When he let out that night; And sashes tumbled 'round the floor And cats at doors did scrape, For they knew their time on earth was short When Timothy rounds the cape.
He broke lamps and cups and crockeryware, The pots and soup tureens, He ate everything that was in the house, Pigs' heads and boiled crubeens; Now there's not a sound eye in the block, From Murphy's heavy sledge, And the town is all on crutches now, Since Murphy broke the pledge.
If Murphy don't get thirty days, And I hope and pray he will, There'll be humps on undertaker's back From all the crowds he'll kill; And the beaver hats, they won't hold out To bury all the dead, If Timothy ties his braces 'round To paint the city red.
He broke lamps and cups and crockeryware, The pots and soup tureens, He ate everything that was in the house, Pigs' heads and boiled curbeens; Now there's not a sound eye in the block, From Murphy's heavy sledge, And the town is all on crutches now, Since Murphy broke the pledge.
The neighbourhood is on their knees In meditation deep. In hope he'll get the summer Through the iron bars to peep; For if not, we'll go to Nagle's Hill And leave our snug abode, For I'd sooner face a unicorn Than Murphy with a load.
He broke lamps and cups and crockeryware, The pots and soup tureens, He ate everything that was in the house, Pigs' heads and boiled crubeens; Now there's not a sound eye in the block, From Murphy's heavy sledge, And the town is all on crutches now, Since Murphy broke the pledge.