Frothy dark pints of porter he used to enjoy
The King of the of the Duhallow Travellers when i was a boy
Paddy Driscoll had triumphed in many a fist fight
For wrongs done to him with his fists he put right
The pride of North Cork's Travelling Driscoll clan
I knew Paddy Driscoll as an ageing man
Gray haired tall and broad shouldered men like him are rare
Of his commanding presence one did feel aware
A man who was born into the wandering life
In his horse drawn van he travelled the roads with his children and wife
One who inspired many a story and rhyme
'Twas said he was fearless when in his life's prime
I knew him when time had left him looking gray
And he died of old age though he lived the hard way.
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