Callaghan's Hotel

There’s the same old coaching stable that’s been used by Cobb and Co
And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago;
And the public, private parlour, where they serve the passing swell
Was the shoeing forge and smithy of the Callaghan’s Hotel
There’s the same old walls and woodwork that our fathers built to last
And the same old doors and wainscot and the windows of the past
And the same old nooks and corners where the Jim-Jams used to dwell
But the phantoms dance no longer up at Callaghan’s Hotel
There are memories of old days that were red instead of blue
In the time of «Dick the Devil» and those other devils too
But perhaps they went to Heaven and are angels, doing well
They were always open-hearted up at Callaghan’s Hotel
Then the new chum, broken-hearted, and with boots all broken too
Got another pair of bluchers, and a quid to see him through
And the old chum got a bottle, who was down and suffering hell
And no tucker-bag went empty out of Callaghan’s Hotel
And I sit and think in sorrow of the nights that I have seen
When we fought with chairs and bottles for the orange and the green
For the peace of poor old Ireland, till they rang the breakfast bell
And the honour of Old England, up at Callaghan’s Hotel
There’s the same old coaching stable that’s been used by Cobb and Co
And the yard the coaches stood in more than sixty years ago
And the public, private parlour, where they serve the passing swell
Was the shoeing forge and smithy of the Callaghan’s Hotel