Crawford Howard

You've heard of the snakes in Australia
You've heard of the snakes in Japan,
You've heard of the rattler - that old Texas battler
Whose bite can mean death to a man.
They've even got snakes in old England -
Nasty adders all yellow and black -
But in Erin's green isle we can say with a smile,
They're away... and they're not coming back!

Now years ago things was quite different
There was serpents all over the place.
If ye climbed up a ladder ye might meet an adder
Or a cobra might leap at your face,
If ye went for a walk up the Shankill,
Or a dander along Sandy Row,
A flamin' great python would likely come writhin'
And take a lump outa yer toe!

Now there once was a guy called St. Patrick,
A preacher of fame and renown
An' he hoisted his sails and came over from Wales
To convert all the heathens in Down.

  And he hirpled about through the country
With a stick and a big pointy hat,
An' he kept a few sheep that he sold on the cheap,
But sure, there's no money in that!

He was preachin' a sermon in Comber
An' getting quite carried away
And he mentioned that Rome had once been his home
(But that was the wrong thing to say!)
For he felt a sharp pain in his cheek-bone
And he stuck up a hand 'till his beak
And the thing that had lit on his gob (an' had bit)
Was a wee Presbyterian snake!

Now the snake slithererd down from the pulpit
(Expectin' St. Patrick to die),
But yer man was no dozer - he lifted his crozier
An' he belted the snake in the eye,
And he says to the snake, 'Listen, legless!
You'd better just take yerself aff!
If you think that that trick will work with St. Patrick
You must be far worser nor daft!'

So the snake slithered home in a temper
An' it gathered its mates all aroun'
An' it says, 'Listen, mates! We'll get on our skates,
I reckon it's time to leave town!
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