Mick Casey

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Mick Casey

Michael Casey (known to all as Mick) was born in Bona on April 19, 1895 and moved from there to Merasheen with his wife Elizabeth (nee Leonard) and family in 1952. He worked as a fisherman and in later years as the wharf, freight and mailbag keeper when the coastal boat arrived. Mick's Irish roots (his grandfather came from Killarney) were evident from his many songs and recitations from the old country such as The Private Still, Barney Casey's Whiskey and Paddy's Auld Leather Britches.

Mick recites Paddy's Auld Leather Breeches

Mick sings Barney Casey's Whiskey

Paddy's Auld Leather Britches

At the sign of the Bell, on the road to Clonmel,
Paddy Hegarty kept a neat shebeen;
He sold pig's meat and bread, kept a good lodgin' bed,
And so well liked round the country he'd been;
Pat and his wife both struggled thro' life.
In the week days Pat mended the ditches,
But on Sunday he dressed in a coat of the best,
And his pride was his auld leather breeches.

For twenty-one years at least, so it appears,
His father those breeches had run in,
On the day that he died, to his bedside
Called Paddy, his beautiful son, in;
Advice then he gave ere he went to the grave,
He bid them take care of his riches,
He said it's no use to jump into my shoes,
So I wish you'd step into my breeches.

Last winter the snow left provisions so low,
Poor Paddy was eat out completely;
The snow coming down he couldn't get to the town,
Thoughts of hunger soon bothered him greatly.
One night as he lay dreaming away,
About big frogs, toads and witches,
He heard an uproar just outside of the door,
And he jumped into his auld leather breeches.

Says Bryan McGuirk, with a voice like a Turk,
Paddy come get us some eating;
Says big Andy Moore, I'll burst open the door,
For this is no night to be waiting;
Scarce had he spoke when the door went in, broke,
And they crowded round Paddy like leeches;
By the great mortal gob, if he didn't get them prog,
They'd eat him clean out of his breeches.

Now Paddy in dread slipt into his bed,
That held Judy, his darling wife, in;
And there he agreed to get them a feed,
He slipped out and brought a big knife in;
He took up the waist of his breeches, the baste,
And cut out the buttons and stitches,
And cut them in strips, by the way they were tripes,
And boiled them, his auld leather breeches.

When the tripes were stewed, on a dish they were strewed,
The boys all cried out, Lord be thanked,
But Hegarty's wife was afraid of her life,
She thought it high time for to shank it.
To see how they smiled, for they thought Pat had boiled,
Some mutton and beef of the richest,
But little they knew it was leather burgoo,
That was made out of Paddy's auld leather breeches.

They wolliped the stuff, says Andy it's tough,
Says Paddy you're no judge of mutton;
When Bryan McGuirk, on the point of a fork,
Lifted up a big ivory button.
Says Darby, what's that? sure I thought it was fat,
Bryan leaps on his legs, and he screeches,
By the powers above, I was trying to shove,
My teeth trough the flap of his breeches.

They made at Pat, he was gone out of that,
He run when he found them all rising,
Says Bryan, make haste, and go for the priest,
By the holy Saint Jackstone, I'm poisoned.
Revenge for the joke they had, for they broke,
All the chairs, tables, bowls and dishes;
And from that very night they will knock out your daylight,
If they catch you with leather breeches.

Barney Casey’s Whiskey

Oh, myself and Barney Casey went to have a little spree,
He had a bottle for himself, and another one for me,
We travelled round the city, till our heads and feet were sore,
And every drink it was so nice, it made us wish for more.

Bad luck to Casey's whiskey, it made us both so frisky,
We drank our bottles empty, and at last we couldn't stand;
Along the streets we rambled, we staggered and we scrambled.
And sung a song, the whole night long, for gay auld Paddy's land.

We met a big policeman and he looked at us, says he,
"What brings you out so late as this?" says I, "The country's free."
"Shut up," says Casey; "Come along." "Oh! devil a bit," says I,
"I'll strike him If he says a word, the dirty mane auld spy!"

The man he went away from us, sure he was not to blame,
I called him back, and axed him if he'd please tell us his name.
"Me name” says he “is Flanigan; I'm from the county Clare,"
"That’s right me boy, come along" says I, “our whiskey you must share."

Out came the empty bottle, and I put it in his paw,
"Look out," says he, "when on me post, a drink's against the law."
He put the bottle to his lips, but the devil a sup was there,
And while we laughed at Flanigan, sure he began to swear.

He rose his club above our heads, and vowed he'd take us in,
For drinkin' on the highway. "Oh," says Casey, "that's too thin."
He dragged poor Casey off to Jail, and thought to take me too,
But to keep a hold on Casey was as much as he could do.