Callaghan's Hotel

There's the same old coaching stable that was used by Cobb and Co.,
And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago;
And the public-private parlour, where they serve the passing swell,
Was the shoeing forge and smithy up at Callaghan-s Hotel.
There-s the same old walls and woodwork that our fathers built to last,
And the same old doors and wainscot and the windows of the past;
And the same old nooks and corners where the Jim-Jams used to dwell;
But the Fantods dance no longer up at Callaghan-s Hotel.

There are memories of old days that were red instead of blue;
In the time of -Dick the Devil� and of other devils too;
But perhaps they went to Heaven and are angels, doing well-
They were always open-hearted up at Callaghan-s Hotel.

Then the new chum, broken-hearted, and with boots all broken too,
Got another pair of bluchers, and a quid to see him through;
And the old chum got a bottle, who was down and suffering Hell;-
And no tucker-bag went empty out of Callaghan-s Hotel.

And I sit and think in sorrow of the nights that I have seen,
When we fought with chairs and bottles for the orange and the green;
For the peace of poor old Ireland, till they rang the breakfast bell-
And the honour of Old England, up at Callaghan-s Hotel.