There's the same old coaching stable that's been used 
by Cobb and Co.,
And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years 
ago;
And the public, private parlour, where they serve the 
passing swell,
Was the shoeing forge and smithy of the Callaghan's 
Hotel.

There's the same old walls and woodwork that our 
fathers built to last,
And the same old doors and wainscot and the windows of 
the past;
And the same old nooks and corners where the Jim-Jams 
used to dwell;
But the phantoms dance no longer up at Callaghan's 
Hotel. 

[Instrumental]

There are mem'ries of old days that were red instead of 
blue;
In the time of “Dick the Devil” and those other devils 
too;
But perhaps they went to Heaven and are angels, doing 
well,
They were always open-hearted up at Callaghan's Hotel. 

Then the new chum, broken-hearted, and with boots all 
broken too,
Got another pair of bluchers, and a quid to see him 
through;
And the old chum got a bottle, who was down and 
suffering hell;
And no tucker-bag went empty out of Callaghan's Hotel.

[Instrumental] 

And I sit and think in sorrow of the nights that I have 
seen,
When we fought with chairs and bottles for the orange 
and the green;
For the peace of poor old Ireland, till they rang the 
breakfast bell,
And the honour of Old England, up at Callaghan's Hotel.

There's the same old coaching stable that's been used 
by Cobb and Co.,
And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years 
ago;
And the public, private parlour, where they serve the 
passing swell,
Was the shoeing forge and smithy of the Callaghan's 
Hotel.