224 Old Days on the Farm 



dies of the Sunny South were always popular here 

 and likely will be for many aeons to come. 



SONGS BY THE FAEMER's FIRESmB 



When I was a small boy I recollect that my 

 father had a couple of retired soldiers in his em- 

 ploy from one of the regiments disbanded in this 

 country in the '60 's. They were Irishmen and 

 wended their way through the English language 

 with a fine brogue. By the fireside in the evening 

 it was a delightful treat, to the youngsters of our 

 family, to listen to the songs of those light-hearted 

 boys from Erin's Isle. One used to trill out, and 

 with just the proper accent, too, that old Irish 

 ballad, ' ' Pat Hagerty 's Leather Breeches. ' ' The 

 song begins thus: 



"At the sign of the bell, on the road to Clonmel, 

 Pat Hagerty kept a nate shabeen; 

 He sold pig's meat and bread, and had a fine lodgin' 



bed, 

 And was liked in the country he lived in. 

 Himself and his wife they struggled through life, 

 On week-days Pat mended the ditches. 

 But on Sunday he dressed in a coat of the best, 

 But his pride was his old leather breeches." 



The song ran through many verses and told the 

 tale of what happened to those breeches. For 

 want of meat, Paddy, on one occasion, when his 

 lodging-house was invaded by a roystering crew 



