| lyric | 1. I'm a buxom fine widow, I live in a spot.
In Dublin they call it the Coombe.
My shop and my stall is laid out on the street
And my palace consists of one room.
A Patrick Street corner for vortyfive years
I stood there I’m telling no lie
And while I stood there sure no body would dare
To say black was the white of my eye.
Chorus:
You may travel from Clare to the County Kildare,
From Drogheda right back by Macroom,
But where would you see a fine widow like me,
Biddy Mulligan the pride of the Coombe.
2. I sell apples and oranges, nuts and split peas,
Bananas and sugar stick sweet;
Of a Saturday night I sell second-hand clothes
And the floor of my stall is the street.
I sell fish of a Friday laid out on a dish,
Fresh mackerel and lovely ray.
I sell lovely herrings, such lovely fresh herrings,
That once swam in dear Dublin Bay.
3. Now I have a son, Mick, and he plays on the flute,
He belongs to the Longford Street band,
And it would do your heart good for to see him march out
When the band goes to Dollymount Strand.
In the Park of a Sunday I out quite a dash
All the neighbours look on in surprise
At my grand paisley shawl and my bonnet so tall
Would dazzle the sight of your eyes. |