Mad Pat

Mad Pat

There was a country fiddler,
A jester, a riddler, a joker,
A singer of songs,
In every town he passed
He'd stop to help the dancing master
Entertain his straw-rope-foot throng
And from a green cloth on his back
He'd take his fiddle
And some goodbye snow
Now singing high, now murmuring low
Now in the middle with his magic bow
And all the people would know.

Mad Paddy's gone back on the road
A wire string fiddle is his only load,
He's kicking up turf everywhere he goes
And he's on his own.
From the houses all the people they stare
At his Horslips and his emerald green hair
You know he keeps on moving
He just doesn't care
When he's on his own.

First he'll play a slow, slow air
So fair, to drive away your cares
And bring a magic sleep
Then the pace will quicken
As you burst out of your slumber
And find yourself up on your feet
But then his magic tune will change
To something strange, there's something wrong
What's going on.
And through the tears you cry
You'll look, you'll sigh, you'll feel like dying
'cause the fiddler's gone
Mad Paddy's moving on.

Mad Paddy's gone back on the road
A wire string fiddle is his only load
He's kicking up turf everywhere he goes
And he's on his own.
In the corner there's a smile on his face
His fancy is taking him to some distant place
You know his tunes keep changing
He can't keep the pace
And he's on his own
Mad Pat's on the road.