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This song has been in the depths of my mind for a while
The ending of this story: Indigo, by ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raze, brought it closer to the surface. Rereading the story this morning finally prompted me to relearn the song. So I went looking for this:
I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I longed for to see.
I went in to Dingle to buy in some cattle,
And wait till I tell you what happened to me.
I entered the fair of a Saturday morning,
First thing I met was a long-legged goat
Bedad then, says I, I'm now to commence dealing.
I think, my old hero, you're worth a pound note.
So I made my approach to the owner who held him,
A bargain we struck there, without much delay.
He said, "If you land(?) me down twenty-two shillings,
Some advice I will give you before you'll go 'way:
This daring old hero was reared on the mountain,
In the year 'sixty-four, he was first used to drill.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported,
and now, he's determined some blood for to spill."
The old man was parting and I was first starting,
But the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave, near broke my left arm,
So I jumped on his back, and caught hold of his mane.
Says I: "My bold ranger, on your back I'm now landed
And if I don't fall off, you may go where you will."
Well, he ran down the street like a pucca distracted,
And soon made his way out toward old Connor Hill.
When we came into Brandon, I thought it was London;
I regretted my journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and swam out across it,
Towards Castlegregory, he made a near(?) way.
The waves of the ocean put me in emotion;
The fishes, they ate all the nails on my toes.
A long-headed mackerel jumped up at my nostrils,
And he nearly made away with the half of my nose.
When he came to the land, now he hastily galloped.
Towards (?? ?? ?), then he did steer.
To Miltown, Killorglin and into Killarney -
He never cried crack till he came to Kenmare!
Then at last the goat spoke, saying: "We past the Headquarters
Where my old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging,
With the colleen-na-Gour where there's plenty of poteen."
To the town of Traleena (??) he next took his rambles;
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for to see.
'Twas outside the town, that we met some Highlanders,
And he up with his horns and he tore all their toes (clothes?).
The Highlanders yelled, and they roared: "Melee, Murder!"
And they called for the police to take him to gaol.
The whole of the force, they were coming around him.
So my hero, he turned and he showed 'em his tail.
He jumped on the basin, and I fell on the footway;
Away went my goat, and I saw him no more.
Maybe he's gone back to the place he belongs to,
Or maybe he steered for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive, he's in Camford or Brandon,
Away in the mountains, or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive, I've a story worth telling
About my rambles 'round Kerry, and the Dingle Puck Goat.
raze, brought it closer to the surface. Rereading the story this morning finally prompted me to relearn the song. So I went looking for this:I am an old jobber, both foolish and airy.
The green hills of Kerry I longed for to see.
I went in to Dingle to buy in some cattle,
And wait till I tell you what happened to me.
I entered the fair of a Saturday morning,
First thing I met was a long-legged goat
Bedad then, says I, I'm now to commence dealing.
I think, my old hero, you're worth a pound note.
So I made my approach to the owner who held him,
A bargain we struck there, without much delay.
He said, "If you land(?) me down twenty-two shillings,
Some advice I will give you before you'll go 'way:
This daring old hero was reared on the mountain,
In the year 'sixty-four, he was first used to drill.
But some of his comrades were hung and transported,
and now, he's determined some blood for to spill."
The old man was parting and I was first starting,
But the words that he told me put me in dismay.
The first jump he gave, near broke my left arm,
So I jumped on his back, and caught hold of his mane.
Says I: "My bold ranger, on your back I'm now landed
And if I don't fall off, you may go where you will."
Well, he ran down the street like a pucca distracted,
And soon made his way out toward old Connor Hill.
When we came into Brandon, I thought it was London;
I regretted my journey when I saw the sea.
But he jumped in the water and swam out across it,
Towards Castlegregory, he made a near(?) way.
The waves of the ocean put me in emotion;
The fishes, they ate all the nails on my toes.
A long-headed mackerel jumped up at my nostrils,
And he nearly made away with the half of my nose.
When he came to the land, now he hastily galloped.
Towards (?? ?? ?), then he did steer.
To Miltown, Killorglin and into Killarney -
He never cried crack till he came to Kenmare!
Then at last the goat spoke, saying: "We past the Headquarters
Where my old ancestors always have been.
We'll go back there now, and we'll take up our lodging,
With the colleen-na-Gour where there's plenty of poteen."
To the town of Traleena (??) he next took his rambles;
He was anxious, I think, some more sport for to see.
'Twas outside the town, that we met some Highlanders,
And he up with his horns and he tore all their toes (clothes?).
The Highlanders yelled, and they roared: "Melee, Murder!"
And they called for the police to take him to gaol.
The whole of the force, they were coming around him.
So my hero, he turned and he showed 'em his tail.
He jumped on the basin, and I fell on the footway;
Away went my goat, and I saw him no more.
Maybe he's gone back to the place he belongs to,
Or maybe he steered for some far distant shore.
But if he's alive, he's in Camford or Brandon,
Away in the mountains, or somewhere remote.
But while I'm alive, I've a story worth telling
About my rambles 'round Kerry, and the Dingle Puck Goat.