THE STONE OUTSIDE DAN MURPHY'S DOOR There's a sweet garden spot in our mem'ry, It's the place we were born and reared; 'Tis long years ago since we left it, But return there we will if we're spared. Our friends and companions of childhood Would assemble each night near a score, 'Round Dan Murphy's shop and how often we've sat On the stone that stood outside his door! Those days in our hearts we will cherish, Contented, although we were poor, And the songs that were sung on the days we were young, On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door! When our day's work was over we'd meet there In the winter or spring the same. The boys and the girls all together, Then would join in some innocent game, Dan Murphy would bring down his fiddle, While his daughter looked after the store, The music did ring and sweet songs we would sing On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door! Back again will our thoughts often wander, To the scenes of our childhood's home, The friends and companions we left there It was poverty caused us to roam. Since then in this life we have prospered, But now still in our hearts we feel sore For mem'ory will fly to the days now gone by, And the stone outside Dan Murphy's door! -- Composer, John Francis Patterson, born Kilbarron, outside Feakle Village, Clare, 1840, father from N. Ireland. On death of parents, children went to live with other families.. Johnny went to live with uncle, Mark Patterson, old Mill Road, Ennis, played drums and piccolo in Army as a boy, toured with circuses as "The Irish Singing Clown." Married, was father. Performed in America circa 1876-1885 as a popular and highly-paid entertainer, "The Rambler from Clare." Composed several songs. Returned to Ireland, struck by iron-bar in row at a performance because he displayed both Irish and British flags. Fatally wounded, he died 1889, Tralee Fever Hospital.