Mad Pat

Mad Pat

There was a country fiddler,

A jester, a riddler, a joker,

A singer of songs,

In every town he passed

He'd stop to help the dancing master

Entertain his straw-rope-foot throng

And from a green cloth on his back

He'd take his fiddle

And some goodbye snow

Now singing high, now murmuring low

Now in the middle with his magic bow

And all the people would know.

Mad Paddy's gone back on the road

A wire string fiddle is his only load,

He's kicking up turf everywhere he goes

And he's on his own.

From the houses all the people they stare

At his Horslips and his emerald green hair

You know he keeps on moving

he just doesn't care

When he's on his own.

First he'll play a slow, slow air

So fair, to drive away your cares

And bring a magic sleep

Then the pace will quicken

As you burst out of your slumber

And find yourself up on your feet

But then his magic tune will change

To something strange, there's something wrong

What's going on.

And through the tears you cry

You'll look, you'll sigh, you'll feel like dying

Cos the fiddler's gone

Mad Paddy's moving on.

Mad Paddy's gone back on the road

A wire string fiddle is his only load

He's kicking up turf everywhere he goes

And he's on his own.

In the corner there's a smile on his face

His fancy is taking him to some distant place

You know his tunes keep changing

He can't keep the pace

And he's on his own

Mad Pat's on the road.