St Patrick was conman,
a shyster, and a rogue.

He almost  pulled a fast one,
on the folks of Tear na Nogue

He tried to sell the locals,
what he described as ****,

But t’was grown in Clonakilty
from greyhound cabbage seed.

Then he took it further, by
ridding the land of snakes,

A bag of eels is what he'd caught
Down by Killarney’s lakes.

It’s a land of saints and scholars
Where nobody mentions thieves

And the Shamrock’s just a porky
That hardly anyone here believes

But they say he visited Blarney
Where he honed his gift of the gab

From there on in t’was easy going
He'd mastered the art "confab"

He used three leaves to explain the trinity
Because he thought the natives were tick

To each he gave an Irish name
of Sheamus and Tadgh and ****.