Dublin Historical Society

Old Dublin Town

Imagine Dublin in 1920, a village with only several hundred residents. Everyone knew everyone else, and apparently everyone knew what one another was doing! “Dear Old Dublin Town” is a ballad written and performed by former Washington Township High School (before the school was renamed Dublin High School) graduate Samuel Davis. The ballad was performed as part of a minstrel show on March 12, 1920, which “…kept the audience constantly entertained and easily drove dull cares away.” Readers will enjoy how this young man pokes fun at the barber, the blacksmith, the grocer and other businessmen of the time in the village!



“In This Dear Old Dublin Town”
(from 1922 “Shamrock” high school annual)
This was a song written and sung by Mr. Samuel Davis at a gathering on March 12, 1922 at the school building (in 2017 called the “1919 Building”) “…which included a minstrel show given by the Washington Township High School assisted by Mr. Samuel Davis and Mr. Lewis Penn.”

A little song I am going to sing,
While you are so quiet and calm;
I hope you’ll spread this grand good news
For many miles around.
If you got any money to spend,
Spend it in this town,
In this dear old Dublin town.

There is Mr. Price on the corner;
He’ll soak you a quarter a pound for nails.
You go in there fifty times a day
And you never get any mail.
He keeps it in the pigeon holes
‘Til it gets mighty dog gone stale.
In this dear old Dublin town.

Now before you go to Martin’s,
You must set aside your fears,
For he’ll price his goods so cheap to you;
To your eyes it will bring tears,
But his canned corn and peas, preserves, brooms and cheese,
He has had for forty years,
In this dear old Dublin town.

There’s Charlie Eberly, for thirty-five years he’s
Been a dealer in stoves and buckets,
And all kinds of galvanized tin,
He’ll put a new roof on your house,
But the rain will still pour in,
In this dear old Dublin town.

There is Bonham, the barber,
Who for speed has set the pace,
With his old dull razors and Star Naphtha suds.
He scrapes around on your face,
Why the way he sends people out of that shop
Is surely a disgrace
In this dear old Dublin town.

Just across the alley is Corbin,
As happy as a lark,
Selling automobile accessories,
And spark plugs that never would spark.
He’s also got some beef on his block
That Noah had on his ark
In this dear old Dublin town.

Just across the street at Cole’s,
They hold the Board of Trade.
They chew and spit and whittle and sit,
But a dollar they never made.
They tell some of the doggondest lies
While sitting there in the shade
In this dear old Dublin town.

Next you go to Pinney’s,
Where they water the gasoline.
The first fellow that you see
Will be Mr. F. D.
And mighty congenial he’ll seem,
And with much zest he will try his best
To sell you his old Ford machine,
In this dear old Dublin town.

There’s Coffman, the blacksmith,
In his hand he carries his hammer.
He will meet you at the door of the shop
In a very agreeable manner,
But if your old mare should step on his toe,
He is liable to say “Hold her, D_____ her.”
In this dear old Dublin town.

Now, folks, this is the end of my song,
And I’ll bid you all adieu.
I hope that I haven’t offended any
Of these favored few,
For I know that every one of them
Love the good old Red, White and Blue
In this dear old Dublin town.