Old Father McVeigh fair blesses the day Of the young priest's selection Not since God knows when there's full houses again And a decent collection And the old church hall floor is heaving once more With the Friday night band in full roar The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
It's plain and well known it's for him alone Their hearts are all pining And there's an almighty gasp when he loosens the clasp Of his collar stiff and shining With his neck bare and bold he hugs and he holds All the females over sixty years old The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
All the boys sit and stare, it's a hard cross they bear There's less jiming than jilting And the girls in fine show, they sit in a row Like wallflowers wilting The fellas fume and frustrate while the old women wait And the band crucifies Dire Straits The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
All chosen and chaste - my God, what a waste! Are there vows he would question? Or does he relish the test of each heaving breast Full of hope and suggestion? And when he finally speaks they all blush to their cheeks He says, See you all at confession next week The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance