The discovery in 1724 of the curative powers of its Spa made Mallow one of the chief holiday resorts in Ireland for the years 1730 - 1810, a period during which 'the Grattans and Ned Lysaghts' of the day proffered snuff boxes, sat at card tables and danced minuets in the evening after drinking the waters.

The water has a mean temperature of 72 Fahrenheit and varies from 72 to 66 according to the season. The clear spring water was considered, in the opinion of eminent medical men, as a blood purifier of no mean quality. The curative season began in April and lasted to October, the general routine being that valetudinarians took the water before breakfast and between mid-day and 5p.m. Not unnaturally, the people of Mallow, finding so unexpected a source of emolument in their midst, began to model themselves on the inhabitants of Bath, to circulate rumours of cures.

Among the more popular enticements was a new ballad on the hot well of Mallow, published 1753, the tenor of which may be gauged for yourself.

The Rakes of Mallow.

Ye Nymphs deprest
With want  of rest
And with complexion sallow,
Don't waste your prime
With chalk and lime,
But drink the springs at Mallow

All you that are
Both thin and bare
With scarce an ounce of tallow,
To make your flesh
Both plump and fresh,
Come, drink at springs at Mallow.

For all that you
Are bound to do,
Is just to gape and swallow,
You'll find by that
You'll roll in fat,
Most gloriously at Mallow

Or if love's pain
Disturbs your brain
And makes your reason shallow,
To shake it off
Gulp down enough,
Of our hot springs at Mallow

Ye ladies fair
Who want an heir,
Whose fruitful fields lie fallow,
Leave spouse at home
And hither come
To drink the wells at Mallow.

Beauling, belling, dancing, drinking,
Breaking windows, cursing, sinking,
Ever ranking never thinking
Live the Rakes of Mallow.

Spending faster than it comes,
Beating waiters, bailiffs, duns,
Bacchus' true begotten sons,
Live the Rakes of Mallow.

One time nought but claret drinking,
Then like politicians thinking,
To raise the sinking funds when sinking,
Live the Rakes of Mallow.

When at home with Dada dying,
Still for Mallow's water crying,
But, where there's good claret plying,
Live the Rakes of Mallow.

Living short but merry lives,
Going where the devil drives,
Having sweethearts, but no wivies,
Live the Rakes of Mallow.

Racking tenants, stewards teasing,
Swiftly spending, slowly raising,
Wishing to spend all their days in
Raking as at Mallow.

Then, to end this raking life
They get sober, take a wife,
Ever after live in strife
And wish again for Mallow.