The Town of Ballybay - The Dublin City Ramblers

In the town of Ballybay, there was a lassie dwelling

I knew her very well and her story’s well worth telling

Her father kept a still and he was a good distiller

But when she took to the drink, well the devil wouldn’t fill her

Ring-a-ding-a-dong, ring-a-ding-a-daddy-o

Ring-a-ding-a-dong, whack fol the daddy o

She had a wooden leg that was hollow down the middle

She used to tie a string on it and play it like a fiddle

She fiddled in the hall and she fiddled in the alleyway

She didn’t give a damn, for she had to fiddle anyway

She said she couldn’t dance, unless she had her wellies on

But when she had them on, she could dance as well as anyone

She wouldn’t go to bed, unless she had her shimmy on

But when she had it on, she would go as quick as anyone

She had lovers by the score, every Tom and Dick and Harry

She was courted night and day, but still she wouldn’t marry

But then she fell in love with a fellow with a stammer

When he tried to run away, well she hit him with a hammer

She had children up the stairs, she had children by the byre

And another ten or twelve, sitting roaring by the fire

She fed them on potatoes and on soup she made with nettles

And lumps of hairy bacon that she boiled up in the kettle

She led a sheltered life, eating porridge and black pudding

And she terrorized her man, until he died quite sudden

And when her husband died, well she wasn’t very sorry

She rolled him in a bag and she threw him in a quarry