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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.
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