When first I saw sweet Peggy, 'Twas on
a market day, A low-back'd car she drove, And sat upon a truss of hay; But when that hay was blooming grass, And
deck'd with flowers of Spring, No flow'r was there that could compare With the blooming girl I sing! As she sat in
her low-back'd car - The man at the turnpike bar Never ask'd for the toll, But just rubb'd his ould poll And look'd
after the low-backed car.
In battle's wild commotion, The proud and mighty Mars, With hostile scythes, demands
his tithes Of death - in warlike cars; While Peggy, peaceful goddess, Has darts in her bright eye, That knock
men down, in the market town, As right and left they fly - While she sits in her low-back'd car, Than battle more
dangerous far - For the doctor's art, Cannot cure the heart That is hit from that low-back'd car.
Sweet Peggy
round her car, sir Has strings of ducks and geese, But the scores of hearts she slaughters, By far outnumber these; While
she among her poultry sits, Just like a turtle dove Well worth the cage, I do engage, Of the blooming god of Love! While
she sits in her low-back'd car, The lovers come near and far, And envy the chicken, that Peggy is pickin' While she
sits in her low-back'd car.
I'd rather own that car, sir! With Peggy by my side, Than a coach and four, and gold
galore And a lady for my bride. For the lady would sit fornisnt me, On a cushion made with taste, While Peggy
would sit beside me, With my arm around her waist. As we drove in the low-back'd car, To be married by Father Maher, Oh,
my heart would beat high At her glance and her sigh, Tho' it beat in a low-back'd car.
|