Dutchmen were made for to carry coal and shovel snow, Italians for organs, And Englishmen to mash;
Chinese for washing, the Japs for a juggling show, Nagurs to whitewash, the Jews were made for cash; Cubans for cigarettes, the Portugese to sail the sea, Scotchmen for bak’ries, the French were made for style, Russians for mining, Americans for liberty,
But the men made for bosses were the sons of Erin’s Isle. Then, hip, hip, hurrah! Erin-go-bragh!
Nothing’s too good for the Irish.
…I’ve just been made the father of a twelve-pound lad, He’s whiskers already, now that’s not bad,
He’s sure to be president some day, bedad- Nothing’s too good for the Irish.
He’ll then sail off with his blackthorn stick, And marry the Queen, make the British sick, And free Erin’s Isle like a good old Mick; Nothing’s too good for the Irish.
‘Nothing’s Too Good For The Irish’. written and composed by J. Joseph Goodwin and Monroe H. Rosenfeld, 1894.
Via New York Public Library archive
Thanks Sibling of Daedalus