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The Cow That Drank the Poteen

[ Roud 5170 ; Ballad Index RcTCtDtP ; trad.]

Paddy Tunney sang The Cow That Drank the Poteen in Bill Leader’s home, Camden Town, London, in 1965. This recording was released in 1966 on his Topic album The Irish Edge. It was also included in 1998 on the Topic anthology of songs of exile and emigration, They Ordered Their Pints of Beer and Bottles of Sherry (The Voice of the People Volume 13). Sean O’Boyle noted on the original album:

This home-spun song comes from Ardaghey in the Inver district of Donegal, where about fifty years ago illicit liquor (poitin, poteen) was manufactured on a large scale. “It was so plentiful”, says Paddy, “that the kettles were often filled from it in mistake for spring water”. The song tells of the adventures of Paddy Shinahan’s cow which made a similar mistake. The song, coming as it does from Donegal, which even at the present has a large percentage of Irish speakers, contains a number of Irish words, in the following order: buarach (a tether), a mhuirnin (my dear), a bhuachaill (my boy), a mhic (my son). The tune is a variant of Master McGrath (known in England as Villikins and His Dinah), a very popular medium for folk-poetry.

Lyrics

Paddy Tunney sings The Cow That Drank the Poteen

There’s a man in Ardaghey; he’s lahee [?] and tall.
He’s one Paddy Shinahan as we do him call.
’Tis he brewed the cordial that does exceed all,
And he beats all the doctors in old Donegal.

For if you were gasping and ready to die,
The smell of the sparking would lift your heart;
Then hoist it up higher close under your nose
And every [?] man loves it wherever he goes.

We can’t have a Christening without it at all,
We drink and sing chorus, shake hands and sing all.
Here’s a health to your gossips, as we do them call,
And if you’ll be a ghost that you may met us all.

Now, Paddy the rascal of late he had been,
With steam and hot water he brewed his poteen.
He left it in barrels, I hear people say,
Till his cow took a notion of drinking one day.

As soon as old Branny this notion did take,
She first broke the buarach and then pulled the stake.
She went to be to the barrel and she drunk her fill,
But believe me she didn’t leave much for the still.

When she got drunk, she began to feel shame.
Says she, “Paddy Shinahan,” calling him by his name,
“I’m as drunk as a beggar with the juice of your malt,
But Paddy, a mhuimin, it isn’t my fault.”

She hiccoughed and staggered and challenged him to fight,
And swore that in through him she’d let in the daylight.
That his breed was all cowards, she told him to note,
And she dared him to tramp on the tail of her coat.

Next day she woke up with a bad broken horn;
She then started to curse the day she was born.
She cursed Barron and Kilty and poteen likewise
And all the still tinkers in under the skies.

She advised all good cows for to mind their fair name
And never take drink that would bring them to shame.
She whispered to Paddy—she says in his ear,
“Sure, you won’t tell Una I went on the beer.”

“O Paddy, a mhic, if it’s mercy you’ll have,
I’ll bring you each year now a fine heifer calf.
O Paddy, bhuachaill, I’m fond of a spree,
But, Paddy, a mhic, we’re the same you and me.”

So Paddy had mercy—we give him renown;
When Una went to milk her, the milk it was brown.
“Poor cow,” then says Una, “her heart’s blood she’s given.
We’ll never be wanting as long as she’s living.”

So drink and be merry and forgive the old cow,
Here’s a health to bold Shinahan whither or how.
May he never want poteen, head, worm or still
In that sanctified place they call Kirralugs Hill.