Old Father McVeigh fair blesses the day
Of the young priest's selection
Not since God knows when there's full houses again
And a decent collection
And the old church hall floor is heaving once more
With the Friday night band in full roar
The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
It's plain and well known it's for him alone
Their hearts are all pining
And there's an almighty gasp when he loosens the clasp
Of his collar stiff and shining
With his neck bare and bold he hugs and he holds
All the females over sixty years old
The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
All the boys sit and stare, it's a hard cross they bear
There's less jiming than jilting
And the girls in fine show, they sit in a row
Like wallflowers wilting
The fellas fume and frustrate while the old women wait
And the band crucifies Dire Straits
The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
All chosen and chaste - my God, what a waste!
Are there vows he would question?
Or does he relish the test of each heaving breast
Full of hope and suggestion?
And when he finally speaks they all blush to their cheeks
He says, See you all at confession next week
The girls are watching young Father Mallory dance
