Collection of Irish Song Lyrics

Mick McGilligan's Daughter, Mary Anne

Irish Song Lyrics - Mick McGilligan's Daughter, Mary AnneAuthor: Louis A Tierney

I'm a gallant Irishman I've a daughter Mary Anne She's the sweetest, neatest, colleen in the Isle Though she can't now purchase satin She's a wonder at bog latin In a fluent, fascinatin' sort of style When she's sellin' fruit or fish Sure, it is her fondest wish For to capture with her charm some handsome man Ah! no matter where she goes Sure, everybody knows That she's Mick McGilligan's daughter Mary Anne CHORUS: She's a darlin', she's a daisy And she's set the city crazy Though in build, and talk, and manner, like a man When me precious love draws near You can hear the people cheer For Mick McGilligan's daughter Mary Anne Alternative chorus: She's me darlin', she's me daisy She damn near drives me crazy She's got hairs upon her chest like any man And you know she's on the rocks When she's wearin' cotton socks Mick McGilligan's daughter, Mary Ann She's so frolicsome and hearty She's the life of every party She's invited to the hoolies, wan and all For her big explosive laugh Would cheer up a sick giraffe Och! a noble heart is b'aten 'neath her shawl Sure tis aisy to be seen That she is no beauty queen And her double chin is steam-rolled every day And her eyebrows they are shifted And her face is being lifted Though who is goin' to lift it, I can't say The concertina she can play In a captivatin' way And wan single semi quaver never misses Arrah! while you'd reckon four They'd be dancin' on the floor Tangos, polkas, waltzes, wan-steps, and schottisches Middle notes play with her nose Tappin' time with her big toes While the company admire her figure vast Them musicianers mad jealous Sure they're long haired dreamy fellows And they know me daughter's tone is unsurpassed She has fine peroxide thresses And some gorgeous wan-piece dresses She can use her feet delightful in a dance Any reel or rink-a-fawder Doesn't cause her any bother Or them foreign tarantellas straight from France Like a wartime armoured sloop She gives wan terrific whoop And comes sailin' through the room, accordin' to plan Then yeh'll hear the M.C. shout 'Gents and ladies please look out Here's Mick McGilligan's daughter Mary Anne At elocution she is great Sure 'The Abbey'and 'The Gate' They were clamourin' for to have her on the stage But me daughter's so refined All their offers she declined And the managers all are in a towerin' rage At Hollywood, likewise All them film-actin' guys Are rampageous to get Mary Anne to stay But she won't leave lover Jim 'Cos she idolises him And it's comin' soon, me daughter's weddin' day Mary Anne has got a voice That would mark a lark rejoice A glorious high sultana, clear and strong Thrush and linnet stop their singin' When me daughter is beginin' For they know that somethin', somewhere, has gone wrong Her low notes as loud as thunder Nearly tear your brain asunder They go whistlin' through the air like twelve inch shells Sure no depth charge, bomb, or blitz Can be said to equal this For the atmosphere is filled with shrieks and yells Tho' she's nearin' twenty stone She a charm just all her own She's as graceful as a hippy-pot-a-mus On her broad expansive face Smiles of welcome we can trace When she scurtinises everyone of us We've a hooley every year When her birthday's dhrawin' near But achone! mavrone! a pain is in me heart For I'm goin' to lose me daughter For another wan has bought her And I know with Mary Anne I have to part Her finance's name is Jim He is wiry, tall, an' slim He tarries at the milk bar all day long But me cushla dove delights In his many glorious fights Every single man for miles has heard the gong Tho' not massive or not bold He is feared be young and old Nature built him on a most original plan Only wan alone he fears And he hastily disappears When he sees me little baby, Mary Anne Ach! the weddin' is tomorrow And a suit I've got to borrow I must have me father's watch and chain as well And on Michael's Hill I'll get A tall hat and tie, you bet And a pair of spats to make me quite a swell Then I'll give me daughter Anne To the care of her good man While I'm dhrownded in confetti and in rice And at the breakfast after We'll have song, and dance and laughter And a gross or two of stout ought to suffice

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