Glendalough Saint

In Glendalough lived a young saint, in an odour of sanctity dwelling,
An old-fashioned odour which now, we seldom or never are smelling,
He lived in a hole in the wall, a hive of ferocious austerity,
He suffered from bile and from gall, and on women he looked with asperity.

There was a young woman one day, was walking along by the lake, sir,
She looked hard at Kevin, they say, but St. Kevin no notice did take, sir,
When she found looking hard wouldn't do, she looked soft, in the old sheep's eye fashion,
But with all her sheep's eyes she could not in St. Kevin rise up any passion.

"You're a very fine fisher" says Kate, " 'tis yourself that knows well how to hook 'em,
But when you have landed them neat, won't you need a young woman to cook 'em?"
Said the Saint, "I'm of serious mind, I intend taking orders for life, dear,"
"Just marry," says Kate, "and you'll find you'll get orders enough from your wife, sir."

"You shall never be flesh of my flesh," said the Saint with a thundering groan, "Sir,
I see that myself," answered Kate, "I can only be bone of your bone, sir.
And even your bones are so scarce," says Kate with her answers so glib, sir,
"That I think you would not be the worse of a little additional rib, sir."

The Saint in a rage seized the lass, he gave her a twirl 'round his head, sir,
Then flung her right into the lake, he gave her a watery bed, sir,
Oh! Cruel St. Kevin, for shame! When a lady her heart came to barter,
If you'd had any blood in your veins you'd have taken a run at her garter.