It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;
Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was shinin’ free;
There was singers, there was clargy — “Bless ye both,” says Father Tryon —
They was weddin’ Mary Callaghan and me.
There was gatherin’ of women, there was hush upon the stairway,
There was whisperin’ and smilin’, but it was no place for me;
A little ship was comin’ into harbour through the fairway —
It belongs to Mary Callaghan and me.
Shure, the longest day has endin’, and the wildest storm has fallin’ —
There's a young gossoon in yander, and he sits upon my knee;
There's a churchful for the christenin’ — do you hear the imp a-callin’?
He's the pride of Mary Callaghan and me.