St Johnston and Carrigans Donegal



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I Had But 50 Pence


I took my girl to a fancy ball,

It was a social hop,

But we stayed until the folks went out,

And the music it did stop,

Then to a restaurant we went,

The best one in the street,

She said she wasn't hungry,

But this was what she ate:

A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,

A chicken and a roast;

Some sparrow grass and apple sass,

A soft shell crab on toast;

A big hot stew, and crackers too;

Her appetite was immense;

When she called for pie, I thought I'd die,

For I had but fifty pence.


She said she wasn't hungry,

She didn't care to eat;

Now I've got money in my clothes,

To feed she can't be beat;

She took it in so cosy,

She had an awful tank;

She said she wasn't thirsty,

But this is what she drank.


A whiskey skin, a glass of gin,

It made me shake with fear;

Some ginger pop with rum on top,

A schooner, then of beer,

A glass of ale, a gin cocktail,

She ought to have more sense.

When she called for more I fell on the floor,

For I had but fifty pence.


You bet I wasn't hungry

I didn't care to eat;

Expecting every moment,

To be kicked out in the street.

She said she'd bring her family round

Some day, and we'd have fun;

Then I gave the man the fifty pence,

And this was what he done.


He tore my clothes, he smashed my nose,

He made me very sore;

He gave me a prize of a pair of black eyes,

And with me swept the floor.

He took me where my clothes loose,

And threw me over a fence;

Take my advice, don't try it twice,

When you've got but fifty pence.

by Sam Dolan, died 2 September 1995


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