The Feisty Irish Priest

A tribute to the exploits of my uncle, Father Art Pendergast, a retired local parish priest, and as they say on the Island, an “able” man. I grew up hearing the stories of his abilities in the “sweet science” and never thought of them as anything out of the ordinary. He did some impromptu bouncing at the parish hall dances back in the day, and when he played Rec hockey in Tignish, PEI, was known by the nickname “Bone Crusher”.

The Feisty Irish Priest

He came from seminary school in black from head to toe His shoes all spit and polish and his collar white as snow He’d the manners of a gentleman but the temper of a beast Father Arthur Pendergast the feisty Irish priest

Chorus: With me right me rowdy rah, Father stood his holy ground With me right me rowdy rah, as he moved from town to town With one big hand for fightin’, and the other for keepin’ peace He earned his reputation as the feisty Irish priest

One evening at a parish dance as Father Art looked on Three fellas started fightin’ but it did not last for long He grabbed them by their woolly necks and carted them cross the floor Then he gave them all his blessing as he fired them out the door

Chorus:

He came around the altar, one night at midnight Mass And headed for the porch door where a bottle of rum was stashed And the twenty rowdy men he faced that fateful Christmas eve Ran helter skelter for their seats as Art rolled up his sleeves

Chorus:

One evening at a local rink a man he cursed and swore Til an uppercut from Father drove him through the swingin’ door He staggered to his feet and said, “Is that the best you got”? “No, this is”, shouted Father Art, and dropped him on the spot.