Pat And His Little Brown Mare - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
Pat and His Little Brown Mare. Copyright, 1884, by Wm. A. Pond & Co. Words by Ed. Harridan. Music by Dave Braham. 
In sweet Dublin town, where my father drove roun' On a side-seated old jaunting car, How he'd hold the reins, down the highways and lanes, It was joy to the girls near and far. The ladies would sigh when my dad he'd drive by, At a race-track, a funeral, or fair, And you'd hear the sportsmen say: Faugh-a-ballagh! clear the way! Here's Pat and his little brown mare. 
Oh, my! she was wise; och! a man would surmise She was gifted with great common sense; How she'd look about when my dad would step out To the genis as they paid him their pence. If you hear her neigh, when my dad got no pay, All the old countrymen would declare There is something in the baste, let's go in and take a taste To Pat and his little brown mare. 
She looked just twelve hand high, oh, when she'd stop and stand, But in running, och, hone! to be just, My dad, car, and baste, or, when she'd start with haste, Sure, they seem'd like a flash in the dust. How she tossed her head, oh, whene'er she was fed, There was no work could wet down her hair; And the universal song, when my dad would say: "go long!" Was Pat and his little brown mare. 
Her teeth they were sound, and the grass from the ground She would swallow with rank weeds and all; How she'd draw a load down an old country road, Sure, a cyclone could ne'er make her fall. The flies they'd a fear for to 'light on her ear, Och! her tail was afloat in the air; And the universal song, when my dad would say: "go long!" Was Pat and his little brown mare.