It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;
Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was shinin’
free;
There was singers, there was clargy—“Bless ye both,”
says Father Tryon—
They was weddin’ Mary Callaghan and me.

There was gatherin’ of women, there was hush upon the
stairway,
There was whisperin’ and smilin’, but it was no place
for me;
A little ship was comin’ into harbour through the
fairway—
It belongs to Mary Callaghan and me.

Shure, the longest day has endin’, and the wildest storm
has fallin’—
There’s a young gossoon in yander, and he sits upon
my knee;
There’s a churchful for the christenin’—do you hear
the imp a-callin’?
He’s the pride of Mary Callaghan and me.