Biddy Mulligan

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I'm a fine buxom widow, I live in a spot, 
In Dublin they call it The Coombe. 
Me shops and me stalls are laid out in the street 
And me palace consists of one room. 

I sell apples and oranges, nuts and sweet peas, 
Bananas and sugar-stick sweet. 
On a Saturday night I sell second-hand clothes, 
From the floor of me stall in the street. 

CHORUS:
 you may travel from clare to county kildare, 
 from francis street back to the coombe, 
 but where would you find a fine widow like me 
 biddy mulligan, the pride of the coombe, me boys, 
 biddy mulligan, the pride of the coombe.

I sell fish on a Friday, spread out on a board, 
The finest you'd find in the sea. 
But the best is me herrings, fine Dublin Bay herrings, 
There's herring for dinner and tea. 

I have a son Mick, he's great on the flute, 
He plays in the Longford Street Band, 
It would do your heart good to see him march out, 
On a Sunday for Dollymount Strand. 

CHORUS 

In a Park on a Sunday I make quite a dash, 
The neighbours look on with surprise, 
With my Aberdeen shawlie thrown over my head 
I dazzle the sight of their eyes. 

At Patrick Street corner for sixty-four years, 
I've stood and no one can deny, 
That while I stood there, no one could dare, 
To say black was the white in me eye.

CHORUS

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