Push for PORTER

When I was a young apprentice
and less than compos mentis
I took leave of all my senses,
with a maid I fell in love.
Her ringlets so entwined me,
Aphrodite's smile did blind me
Cupid's arrow struck behind me,
and her father owned a pub.

It was there I met my nemesis
in her father's licensed premises
Like the Seraphim of Genesis,
sat Mary Anne Maguire.
Arrayed in fine apparel,
astride a porter barrel
She looked the kind of girl
that would fill you with desire.

All the turtle doves were cooing
as I took to my wooing
Her loveliness pursuing in the
springtime of that year.
But she thought I should be older
more gallant and much bolder
In the uniform of a soldier,
'tis then she'd hold me dear.

In extremis and euphoria,
I joined with Queen Victoria
For a spell of death or gloria,
a-fighting with the Boers
To the wind I threw all caution,
I'll return with fame and fortune
And together make a portion
out of matrimony's chores.

On the gravestone of her mother,
she swore she loved no other
But I would soon discover that
she played me for a berk
For lady-luck had beached me
and intelligence had reached me
Whilst I'd been overseas
she had got married to a Turk.

Well me, I then deserted
for to find the girl who'd flirted
Back to Ireland I reverted
for my jealousy was roused.
In Maguire's pub in Derry,
I found him making merry
With his arms around my Mary
as together they caroused.

So I took my time and waited
until his thirst was sated.
And home he navigated
through the streets of Derry town.
At his lodgin's he stood knocking
and whilst they were unlocking
I put a stone inside a stocking
on his head I brought it down.

'Twas then the night's serenity
was rent with loud obscenity
And Ottoman profanity
that I couldn't understand.
With an oath he made to grab me,
with full intent to stab me
But as he tried to kebab me,
I went screaming up the strand.

All around the town's perimeter
he chased me with his scimitar
A powerful passion limiter
to an errant in his pride.
Through the waterside he chased me,
to the Bridge of Foyle he raced me
And at Derry Quay he faced me,
so I jumped into the tide.

Sure, bravery's no virtue
when some heathen's trying to hurt you
And all noble thoughts desert you
when you see that curly knife
For there's many things worth trying for
and occasionally worth lying for
But there's bugger-all worth dying for,
so I'll stick to the single life.