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celtic connection - the kelligrew's soiree lyrics

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you may talk of clara nolan’s ball,
or anything you choose,
but it wouldn’t hold a snuff-box
to the spree at kelligrews.
if you want your eyeb-lls straightened
just come out next week with me,
and you’ll have to wear your gl-sses to
the kelligrews soiree.

there was birch rind, tar twine
cherry wine and turpentine,
jowls and cavalances
ginger beer and tea,
pig’s feet, cat’s meat,
dumplings boiled up in a sheet,
dandelions and crackies’ teeth
at the kelligrew’s soiree.

oh, i borrowed cluny’s beaver,
as i squared my yards to sail;
and a swallow-tail from hogan
that was foxy on the tail,
billy cuddahie’s old working pants
and patsy nolan’s shoes
and an old white vest from fogarty
to sport at kelligrews.

there was dan milley, joe lilly,
tantan and mrs. tilley,
dancing like a little filly
‘twould raise your heart to see.
jim brine, din ryan,
flipper smith and caroline,
i tell you, boys, we had a time
at the kelligrew’s soiree.

oh, when i arrived at betsy snooks’
that night at half-past eight,
the place was blocked with carriages
stood waiting at the gate.
with cluney’s funnel on my pate
the first words betsy said,
“here comes a local preacher
with the pulpit on his head.”

there was bill mews, dan hughes,
wilson, taft and teddy roose,
while bryant he sat in the blues,
and looking hard at me.
jim fling, tom king
and johnson, champion of the ring
and all the boxers i could bring
at the kelligrew’s soiree.

“the saratoga lancers first”
miss betsy kindly said;
sure i danced with nancy cronin
and her granny on the “head”.
and hogan danced with betsy,
oh, you should have seen his shoes,
as he lashed the muskets from the rack
that night at kelligrews.

the was boiled guineas, cold guineas,
bullock’s heads and picaninies,
and everything to catch the pennies,
you’d break your sides to see.
boiled duff, cold duff,
apple jam was in a cuff,
i tell you, boys, we had enough
at the kelligrew’s soiree.

crooked flavin struck the fiddler,
and a hand i then took in;
you should see george cluney’s beaver,
it was flattened to the rim.
and hogan’s coat was like a vest,
the tails were gone you see.
oh, says i “the devil haul ye,
and your kelligrew’s soiree.”

- celtic connection lyrics

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