A Toast to San Patricio                       March 17, 1847   I was born on a farm      in the county of Cork Now I’m bound on a ship      for the port of New York I’d prefer to get drunk      but I’m willing to work Or even join the army-o        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-den      I’ll never lie down with the hunger again        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-day      I’m sailing for Americay   I’ll have none of your nonsense      and none of your chat None of your impudent      this and your that I’ll march with my countrymen      Mike, Tom, and Pat A-marching down to Mexico        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-doo      I’ll march there with the coats of blue        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-day      I’m sailing for Americay   I might never prove up      I might never get rich If I’m mucking a stable      or digging a ditch But I’ll fight if you call me      a son of a bitch I’ll join the San Patricios        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-doh      A toast to San Patricio        Fiddle-dee-dee           and fiddle-dee-day      I’m sailing for Americay     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont March 17, 2015