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.