> Mad PatThere was a country fiddler, A jester, a riddler, a joker, A singer of songs, In every town he passed He'd stop to help the dancing master Entertain his straw-rope-foot throng And from a green cloth on his back He'd take his fiddle And some goodbye snow Now singing high, now murmuring low Now in the middle with his magic bow And all the people would know.Mad Paddy's gone back on the roadA wire string fiddle is his only load,He's kicking up turf everywhere he goesAnd he's on his own.From the houses all the people they stareAt his Horslips and his emerald green hairYou know he keeps on moving He just doesn't careWhen he's on his own.