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. 

 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. 


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.


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