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

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© 2020 The Kelly Song Collective