My name is Pat McFadden, song

Michael McLoughlin, singing in English
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Lyrics

Oh my name’s Pat McFadden a plain Irish fellow
I play the part of a man wherever I go
My parents were poor but they reared me up honest
On a wee patch of land near the town of Dungloe

But I made up my mind that I’d leave them and hire
And work for high wages like any young man
With my bundle hog tied up under my arm
Set out for the holiday fair in Strabane

When I got to Strabane of course I was a stranger
Not one in the village did I know there
A wheen of boys at the corner to take a hand at me
Saying there’s welcome on you this day to the fair

Says I may my proud fellows give me none of your chin wag
For my name it was paid for before I left home
My name it is Paddy I’ll never deny it
I’m the best Irishman ever stood in Tyrone

These words I said to them at them hurt their feelings
With eyes like balls of fire at me they did stare
Saying you old heather picker we’ll make you go quicker
We’ll make you rue the day you came here to the fair

With your old fashioned hat and your corduroy trousers
And your old flannel jacket long since it was new
For if you were at home toasting spuds in the ashes
‘Twould be the right place for a boy now like you

Well although these are ugly and a bit out of fashion
I’m sure they were paid for before I left home
When the bill of dress may be found in your pocket
And you still had to pay if the truth was but known

And another thing too that I might as well mention
The boys from the mountain are always well fed
They’re not like the scrubs that are reared in Strabane
On a cup of stewed tae and a crust of dry bread

And before I knew sure the biggest amongst them
Ran out and stuck his big fist in my face
Saying you old mountain ranger although you’re a stranger
Do you know that I’m the best man in the place

I don’t want to fight I came here for to hire
You insulted me first at the fair here today
But if I had to fight I’m not feared for to try it
If there’s anyone here that’ll show me fair play

Well the skite he made at me I’ll never forget it
He was fully determined just to knock me dead
But I guarded him off and me being left handed
I hit him a poke sent him over his head

And then he arose in such a fury
And he swore that he’d kill me dead right on the spot
But I ducked him again before he could stop it
With my big left hand give one more shot

This time I knocked him right through Snodgrass’s window
And long did he lie there before he could rise
All the boys gathered round and they sent for the doctor
Got him out to the air before he would die

I stood there awhile till he was up and got better
We shook hands and made friends and that ended it all
But from that day till this all the boys from Tyrone
Respect the men from the mountains of old Donegal