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In the town of St. John's; that's where I chance to dwell
One night when I was playing in a pub you all know well,
I met a girl from Carbonear who said she liked to dance.
And if I knew just what to do, Than maybe I'd have a chance.
I asked if she was partial to the jigs or to the reels.
What was her particular fancy for kicking up her heels?
She said she was fond of a melody and the singing of the note,
But her particular fancy was The Rhythm Of The Goat.
I asked if there was a particular tune that she would like to hear.
I'd play it on me mandolin, me banjo or me guitar.
I'd play it on me whistle or on me fiddle note for note,
But all she said she want to hear was The Rhythm Of The Goat.
Well, I thought I knew just what to do so then I turned to she,
With me diddle dum dis one diddle dum dat one diddle dum diddle dum dee.
With me wak fol tooralora and the story of Lucky's boat,
But still she said she wanted to hear The Rythm Of The Goat.
I then took out my bodhran and I began to play,
A song I knew when I was young out in Conception Bay.
Her feet, they hardly touched the floor; I knew I had her vote,
Cause I was finally playing The Rhythm Of The Goat.