I’ve often wondered how St. Patrick drove the snakes

Right out of Erin.

Was it something that he said to them, or something he was wearin’

That made them turn away and go and nevermore be seen?

Or was it that they couldn’t stand that never-ending green?

Now, I’ve searched through all the archives

And the truth to you I’ll tell

But if the Pope gets wind of it he’ll send us all to hell

For casting doubt upon the name of Patrick

Saint of Irish fame.

The snakes were heavy drinkers, and their only drink was rum

They had a favourite local, to which they’d always come.

This night they slithered through the door, and then up to the bar

And called upon the barmaid to produce their favourite jar.

The barmaid said ‘I’m sorry, boys, but Patrick’s had it banned,

There’s not a single drop of rum in all of Ireland’.

The snakes became quite angry, and they began to hiss,

So the barmaid acted quickly, ere things could go amiss.

You see, she was a gypsy, and she had a crystal ball

And always kept it handy, to see what might befall.

She gazed into the ball and said-

‘I see a land that’s far away and is awash with rum-

The only snag me boys is that it’s in the time to come.

But since you’re all descended from that serpent called Old Nick

I’m sure that you will find a way to make the time pass quick’.

The snakes then had a meeting, they were full of consternation,

At last they all decided on a lengthy hibernation

They found a dark and cosy cave that was extremely deep

And settled down for aeons to a long and dreamless sleep.

When centuries had come and gone, the time was ripe for action

The snakes uncoiled and realised there was a strong attraction

To be up and to be doing, they soon were on their way

They stowed aboard a sailing ship- ‘twas bound for Botany Bay.