The Kelly Song Collective
Paddy From Crossmaglen
Paddy came from Crossmaglen
in the county of Armagh.
He was known through the countryside
and well known to the law.
But Paddy was a gentle soul.
Never was your debtor.
He loved his work and family,
but loved the whiskey better
He drove Mick Ryan’s lorry,
and travelled town to town;
the motorways and alleyways
Tyrone to County Down.
End of day his travels done
the truck an empty vault,
he’d find a near purveyor
of Bushmill’s single malt.
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
Paddy's not political
Paddy just loves the craic
He'd just as easy shed a tear
Or slap ye on the back
Sometimes Paddy made it home
or just wandered in a fog,
or slept beside your sister,
or arse up in a bog.
One night near Castleblaney
at the closing of the day
faffin’ with some soldiers
who’d set up on the way.
The boys from South Armagh
were waiting there as well
with their US made M90s,
dark intentions calved in hell.
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
A bead upon the soldier drawn;
the Provo on the heights.
He swallowed then he shouted,
‘Is that Paddy in my sights?’
No matter where the sniper aimed
Paddy would appear;
staggering and swaying
confounding the musketeer.
Paddy stayed an hour
Yer man was mad as hell
'Move your arse poor Paddy!'
He wished that he could yell
Though improbable you might assert
Paddy stopping crimes,
He saved a soldier’s life that night
then did it ten more times.
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
One month later to the day
outside of Newry town
the whiskey had him singin’
so he slowed the lorry down.
He didn’t see the car parked,
'cause he had closed his eyes
Breathed and hit the high note
in the Fields Of Athenry
He didn’t feel the impact
and never heard the shot
that grazed the driver’s elbow
as he foiled another plot.
Paddy, non the wiser
passed the wreck and tipped his horn,
A load of provos swearin'
Paddy singing The Mountains Of Mourne
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
Well the lads were getting furious
and sat down to discuss
'bout what to do with Paddy.
He was damn near treasonous.
And on the drink wee Paddy
along the path he lurched
and at a gaily painted cottage
he passed out on the porch
The police were on patrol nearby
and spotted Paddy there.
They dragged him to the door
knocked and waited on the stair
And when the door swung open
contemplate the scene;
a team of bloody snipers
starin’ at the RUC
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
Sad to say the sniper’s gun
notorious throughout the land,
but Paddy was a force himself;
Magoo meets Superman
Ulster’s sunny glens don’t know
the killing he prevented,
though he’s a legendary figure
among the Provos he tormented
What about ye Paddy?
Will the troubles never end?
Thank Jesus for the whiskey.
It’s Paddy from Crossmaglen.
© Michael Worthington Music 2020
