On my old humble grave there's a grey Irish stone,
And the shamrock is blooming in spring nightly swoon,
It remembers the old song of Molly Malone,
And Saint Patrick who came singing under the moon.

Our mugs will be full while it's cold, holly-ho!
We will drink from the pure Irish gold, holly-ho!

Patrick came to my grave with a jar, merry funk,
And he sipped from his whiskey, and decided to stay -
Joined by Sheldon O'Drinkey, and Simon O'Drunk
Those able but to crawl all came here on that day!

Our mugs will be full while it's cold, holly-ho!
We will drink from the pure Irish gold, holly-ho!

And Saint Patrick would drink with our gang, to be sure:
There were Kevin O'Gulpey and Brian O'Drain
Fair Erin O'Konckback and old Ale O'Pure
They all drank and they danced in the grey Irish rain.

Our mugs will be full while it's cold, holly-ho!
We will drink from the pure Irish gold, holly-ho!

And my soul was so happy to see the old crowd,
It grew out as a daisy and asked for his quart:
For as long as Saint Patrick would sing with us loud,
We will drink and rejoice after death do us part!

And the mugs will be full while it's cold, holly-ho!
As we drink from the pure Irish gold, holly-ho!

Inspired by owlga