Specimens of Ireland's greatness gathered round O'Connor's bar,
Answering the invitation Patsy posted near and far.
All the chandeliers were lit, but did not shed sufficient light,
So tallow candles, stuck in bottles, graced the bar that famous night.
All the quality were there; before such talent ne'er was seen;
Healy brought the house down fairly with "The Wearin' o' the Green."
Liquor went around in lashins, everything was going off right,
When O'Connor sent the word round, "Murphy shall not sing to-night."
Faces paled at Patsy's order; none were listening to the song;
Through their hearts went vague sensations—awful dreads of coming wrong;
For they knew that Danny Murphy thought himself a singer quite,
And knew that if he made his mind up, that, bedad, he'd sing that night.
Everyone was close attention, knew that there would be a row,
When the chairman said that "Mr. Murphy will oblige us now."
"Not so fasht," said Pat O'Connor, rising to his fullest height,
"This here pub belongs to me, and Murphy shall not sing to-night."
Up jumps Murphy, scowling darkly as he looks at Pat O'Connor:
"Is this the way," he says to Pat, "that you uphold Ould Oireland's honour?"
"Oi know Oi'm not much at singin'; any toime Oi'd sooner foight;
But, to show me independence, s'help me bob, Oi'll sing to-night."
"Gintlemin," says Pat O'Connor, wildly gazing round about,
"It will be my painful duty to chuck Danny Murphy out;
It has been a rule with me that no man sings when he is tight;
When Oi say a thing Oi mane it—Murphy shall not sing to-night."
Then says Doolan to O'Connor, "Listen what Oi've got to tell;
If yez want to chuck out Murphy, yez must chuck out me as well."
This lot staggered Pat O'Connor, Doolan was a man of might;
But he bluffed him, loudly crying, "Murphy shall not sing to-night."
Then he rushed on Danny Murphy and he smote him hip and thigh;
Patsy looked a winner straight, when Doolan jabbed him in the eye.
All the crowd at once took sides, and soon began a rousing fight;
The battle cry of Patsy's push was "Murphy shall not sing to-night."
The noise soon brought a copper in: 'twas Patsy's cousin, Jim Kinsella.
"Hould yer row," he says to Doolan, when Mick lands him on the smeller.
They got the best of Doolan's push, though; lumbered them for getting tight.
Patsy then had spoken truly, "Murphy did not sing that night."
Specimens of Ireland's greatness gathered round the City court.
There before the awful sentence was a touching lesson taught—
Then away they led the prisoners to a cell, so cool and white;
And for fourteen days to come Murphy shall not sing at night.