Written by Johnny Patterson, Garden Where The Praties Grow is an 1800s Irish music hall song about a old man recounting the tale of how he courted, married and had children with a lovely Irish woman in the town he grew up in. And fun fact: the word praties is the Irish vernacular for potatoes, so when the man says he met his wife in the garden where the praties grow, he means they met where the potatoes were grown!
Lyrics
Have you ever been in love, me boys, Oh! have you felt the pain?
I'd sooner be in jail me self, than be in love again.
Tho' the girl I love is beautiful, I'll have ya all ta know
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow.
She was just the sort of creature, boys, that nature did intend
To walk right through the world, me boys, without a Grecian Bend.
Nor did she wear a chignon, I'll have ya all ta know,
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow.
Says I, "Me pretty Cailleen, I'm tired of single life,
And if you've no objections, sure I'll make ya my sweet wife."
She answered me right modestly and courtesied very low,
"Oh, you're welcome to the garden where the praties grow."
She was just the sort of creature, boys, that nature did intend
To walk right through the world, me boys, without a Grecian Bend.
Nor did she wear a chignon, I'll have ya all ta know,
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow.
Says I, "Me pretty Cathleen, I hope that you'll agree."
She wasn't like the city girls that say "You're making free."
She says, "I'll ask my parents and tomorrow I'll let ya know,
If you'll meet me in the garden where the praties grow."
She was just the sort of creature, boys, that nature did intend
To walk right through the world, me boys, without a Grecian Bend.
Nor did she wear a chignon, I'll have ya all ta know,
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow.
Oh, the parents they consented, and we're blessed with children three,
Two boys just like their mother, and a girl the image of me.
And now we're going to train them up the way they ought ta go,
For ta dig in the garden where the praties grow.
She was just the sort of creature, boys, that nature did intend
To walk right through the world, me boys, without a Grecian Bend.
Nor did she wear a chignon, I'll have ya all ta know,
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow.
Nor did she wear a chignon, I'll have ya all ta know,
And I met her in the garden where the praties grow