You are all aware as well as me, There has been great consternation, In Dublin has a trial been Which excited all the nation; There was a blooming lady, who Did wed a soldier laddie, And he was afraid of his mamma, And he dare not tell his daddy. The lady licked the soldier well, Cause he refused to take her, And the Irish lads were all so glad, To see her beat the Major. He is the son of a great lord, Stand at ease, and order; He took a bonny, blooming maid Over the Scottish border; He told her pretty tales of love, Embraced her round the middle, And when they were at Gretna Green The Major caught the fiddle. He took then to Paddy’s land, So gentle, meek, and clever, He disgraced the Holy Church of Rome, He did, the naughty fellow; He vowed that she was not his wife, And caused a pretty bother, He clapped his knapsack on his back, Then went and married another. Brave Serjeant Sullivan was the man, No lawyer could be bolder, With gallant Whiteside went to work, And fired away at the soldier; While every upright person there The lady pitied, who was round her, The sheepish Major droop’d his head, And pop went the powder. He was a Major, a Lord’s son, As evil as a monkey, All the religion that he cared about, Was who had got most money; The fool was of no creed at all, The Church of Rome defied a sad way, He could swear a lie thro’ a nine inch wall, And cover his nob with pipeclay. Now like a brick the soldier’s licked, And his coronet is troubling, She shamed him in the Four Courts, In the good old town of Dublin; They made the naughty soldier jump, If the ladies could have caught him, They would have ducked him underneath the pump, And better manners taught him. He drove the lady round and round, While riches she had any; To Waterford and to Belfast, To Bantry and Kilkenny; He disgraced the Holy Church of Rome, The naughty soldier laddy, And all because he was afraid Of a flogging from his daddy. He has made a pretty kettle of fish, He has lost his wife and baby, The Dublin lasses shout huzza! May Heaven bless the lady; She like a brick the Major licked, The naughty wicked soldier, He bolted out of Dublin town, With his firelock on his shoulder. If to Gretna Green he goes again, To play his hey down diddle, Let the ladies pray both night and day, That he may get the fiddle! And then go mad to Ballinafad, Where they will stand no parley, So cut your stick, your Irish licked, And a regular guy is Charlie.