Lyrics Killigrew's Soiree - Burl Ives

Killigrew's Soiree

You may talk of Clara Nolan’s ball or anything you choose\nBut it could not hold a snuffbox to the spree at Kelligrews\nIf you want your eyeballs straightened just come out next week with me\nAnd you’ll have to wear your glasses at the Kelligrew’s Soiree\nThere was birch rine, tar twine, cherry wine and turpentine\nJowls and cavalances, ginger beer and tea\nPig’s feet, cat’s meat, dumplings boiled in a sheet\nDandelion and crackies teeth at the Kelligrews Soiree\nOh I borrowed Cluney’s beaver as I squared my yards to sail\nAnd I swallow tail from Hogan that was foxy on the tail\nBillie Cuddahie’s old working pants and Patsy Nolan’s shoes\nAnd an old white vest from Fogarty to sport at Kelligrews\nThere was Dan Milley, Joe Lilly, Tantan and Mrs. Tilley\nDancin' like a little filly, 'twould raise your heart to see\nJim Brine, Din Ryan, Flipper Smith and Caroline\nI tell you boys we had a time at the Kelligrews Soiree\nWhen I arrived at Betsy Snooks' that night at half past eight\nThe place was blocked with carriages stood waiting at the gate\nWith Cluney’s funnel on my plate the first words Betsy said\nHere comes the local preacher with the pulpit on his head\nThere was Bill Mews, Dan Hughes, Wilson, Wilson, Taft and Teddy Roose\nWhile Bryant he sat in the blues and looking hard at me\nJim Fling, Ton King, and Johnson, champion of the ring\nAnd all the boxers I could bring at the Kelligrews soiree\nThe Saritoga Lancers first, Miss Betsy kindly said\nSure, I danced with Nancy Cronan and her Granny on the Head\nAnd Hogan danced with Betsy, you should have seen his shoes\nAs he lashed old muskets from the rack that night at Kelligrews\nThere was boiled guineas, cold guineas, bullocks' heads and little Winnies\nAnd everything to catch the pennies, you’d break your sides to see\nBoiled duff, cold duff, apple jam was in a cuff\nI tell you boys we had enough at the Kelligrews soiree\nCrooked Flavin struck the fiddler and a hand I then took in\nYou should see George Cluney’s beaver flattened to the brim\nAnd Hogan’s coat was like a vest, the tails were gone you see\nOh says I the devil haul ye and your Kelligrews soiree