Best Irish Drinking Songs is quickly becoming one of my most-popular albums for sale on iTunes. Make sense. It is a compilation that features 20 of the best traditional Irish drinking songs… from my albums, at least. Plus, there are a few originals thrown into that mix. If you're just getting started with my music, Best Irish Drinking Songs is a good start. Or if you're getting ready for St. Patrick's Day, it's an excellent mix of St. Patrick's Day drinking songs too. So get your copy below.
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Best Irish Drinking Songs Lyrics
An Irish drinking song is basically an Irish song. Usually Irish drinking songs are about alcohol, but sometimes they are just good sing-alongs, the type of songs you will enjoying singing with your friends at a pub. You can find the Irish song lyrics to all of these drinking songs below:
Charlie Mopps (Beer, Beer, Beer)
Lyrics and music traditional
A long time ago, way back in history,
when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea.
Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops,
and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops.
* He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.
The Curtis bar, the James’ Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well
one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie’s beer they sell
so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O’clock ye stop
for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5
A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick,
the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick.
40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks.
Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5
He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.
The Lord bless Charlie Mops!
What Shall We Do With a Drunken Sailor
lyrics and music traditional
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?
* Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Early in the morning
Put him in a long boat till he’s sober.
Leave him there till they make him better.
Trice up in a running bowline.
Give ‘im a dose of salt and water.
Give ‘im a taste of the bosun’s rope-end.
Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper.
Shave his belly with a rusty razor.
Put him in the bed of the Captain’s daughter.
You should of seen the Captain’s daughter.
She looks like an orangutan.
Swinging from a chandalier.
That’s what you do with a drunken sailor.
Calton Weaver (Nancy Whiskey)
lyrics and music traditional
I'm a weaver a Calton Weaver,
I'm a rash and a rovin' blade
I've got silver in my pocket
and I'll follow the roving trade.
* Whisky, Whisky, Nancy Whisky.
Whisky, Whisky Nancy-o!
As I went in to Glasgow City,
Nancy Whisky I chanced to smell,
I went in, sat doon beside her,
Seven long years I loved her well.
The more I kissed her the more I loved her,
The more I kissed her the more she smiled,
Soon I forgot my mother's teaching,
Nancy soon had me beguiled
So I'll go back to the Calton weavin'
I'll surely make the shuttles fly,
I'll make more at the Calton weavin'
Than ever I did with the rovin' trade
So come all you weavers you Calton weavers
All you weaver's where ‘ere you be
Beware of whiskey, Nancy Whiskey,
She'll ruin you like she ruined me
Whiskey in the Jar
lyrics and music traditional
As I was going over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting.
I first produced my pistol, and then produced my rapier.
Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,
* musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy ‘ol
whack for the daddy ‘ol
there’s whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny.
I put it in my pocket and I took it home to Jenny.
She said and she swore, that she never would deceive me,
but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy
I went into my chamber, all for to take a slumber,
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder.
But Jenny took my charges and she filled them up with water,
Then sent for captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter.
It was early in the morning, as I rose up for travel,
The guards were all around me and likewise captain Farrel.
I first produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier,
But I couldn’t shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken.
If anyone can aid me, it’s my brother in the army,
If I can find his station down in Cork or in Killarney.
And if he’ll come and save me, we’ll go roving near Kilkenny,
And I swear he’ll treat me better than me darling sportling Jenny
Now some men take delight in the drinking and the roving,
But others take delight in the gambling and the smoking.
But I take delight in the juice of the barley,
And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early
Irish Drinking Song (I’ll Drink from Dusk Til Dawn)
lyrics and music Marc Gunn
Johnny awoke with an ache in his head.
Bad dreams had made him ill.
And he grumbled as he dressed despite his duress
As he made his way to the mill.
Oh he never wanted to work that day,
But the foreman had himself clear.
So Johnny dreamed of the eve to come
When he’d drink him beer after beer,
Singing…
* “I’ll drink from dusk till dawn
I’ll drink a toast to day’s end.
Yes, I’ll drink from dusk till dawn
And I’ll drink to the health of me friends.”
It was a chilly morning, went straight to his bones
Oh, he wished that he had him some ale.
Just one fine glass of stout Guiness
Would hold him till the end of the trail.
Oh his mouth watered with the thought of ale
By the time he arrived he’d decide
That not even Death could keep him away
From his friends and their favorite dive.
They’d sing…
Johnny worked hard all the day
His mind away drinking alone
And he told his friends of the pledge he’d made
And the fantasy that kept him afloat.
“Come hell or high water I’ll drink with you
Nothing could keep me away.”
When the day came to end, he left with a friend
Together they walked and they sang…
On the road they came to a bridge of rope
And there they met with a man
With a scythe in his hand and an evil grin
Tw’as Old Death who cut Johnny down.
Johnny’s friend crossed himself, swore it’was the truth
As he retold the scene to the bar
And they all recalled Johnny’s last words,
“I’ll drink come hell or high water!”
He sang…
Well, the door swung open, a cold wind blew in.
And there stood a man unafraid.
He called for a beer. They realized when near.
It was Johnny come back from the grave.
He said, “You could keep me away from work.
For there’s nothing I live for there.
But I told you today of the pledge I made
You can’t keep a man from his beer,”
Fiddler’s Green
lyrics and music John Conolly
As I roved by the dockside one evening so fair
To view the salt waters and take in the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing a song
Oh, take me away boys me time is not long
* Wrap me up in me oilskin and blankets
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates, I'm taking a trip mates
And I'll see you someday on Fiddlers Green
Now Fiddler's Green is a place I've heard tell
Where the fishermen go if they don't go to hell
Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away
Now when you're in dock and the long trip is through
There's pubs and there's clubs and there's lassies there too
And the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free
And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree.
Where the skies are all clear and there's never a gail
And the fish jump on board with one swish on their tail
Where you lie at your leisure, there's no work to do
And the skipper's below making tea for the crew
Now I don't want a harp nor a halo, not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I'll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along
With the wind in the riggin to sing me a song
Wild Rover
lyrics and music traditional
I've been a wild rover for many a year,
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
But now I've returned with gold in great store,
And I never will play the wild rover no more.
* And it's no, nay, never
No, nay, never, no more,
Will I play the rover
No never, no more.
I went down to an ale house I used to frequent,
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, but she answered me “Nay.
Such custom like yours I could have any day.”
I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright,
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight,
She said, “I have whiskeys and wines of the best,
And I'll take you upstairs, and I'll show you the rest.
I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress me as oft times before,
I never will play the wild rover no more!
Finnegan’s Wake
lyrics and music by traditional
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street,
A gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet,
An' to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a tipplers way
but for the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day,
he'd a drop of the craythur every morn
* Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
round the flure yer trotters shake
Bend an ear to the truth they tell ye,
we had lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
One morning Tim got rather full,
his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and
they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet,
and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet
and a barrel of porter at his head
His friends assembled at the wake,
and Widow Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake,
then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry,
“Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim, auvreem! O, why did you die?”,
“Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the cry,
“O Biddy” says she “you're wrong, I'm sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
and sent her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage,
t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
and a row and a ruction soon began
Mickey Maloney ducked his head
when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed,
the liquor scattered over Tim
Now the spirits new life gave the corpse, my joy!
Tim jumped like a Trojan from the bed
Cryin will ye walup each girl and boy,
t'underin' Jaysus, do ye think I'm dead?”
Rising of the Moon
lyrics by J.K. Casey, music Turlough O'Carolan
And come tell me Sean O'Farrell tell me why you hurry so
Husha buachaill hush and listen and his cheeks were all a glow
I bare orders from the captain get you ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon
* By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon
And come tell me Sean O'Farrell where the gath'rin is to be
At the old spot by the river quite well known to you and me
One more word for signal token whistle out the marchin' tune
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon
Out from many a mud wall cabin eyes were watching through the night
Many a manly heart was beating for the blessed warning light
Murmurs rang along the valleys to the banshees lonely croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon
All along that singing river that black mass of men was seen
High above their shining weapons flew their own beloved green
Death to every foe and traitor! Whistle out the marching tune
And hurrah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon
‘Tis the rising of the moon, 'tis the rising of the moon
And hurrah, me boys, for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon
Roll the Old Chariot Along
lyrics and music Traditional
A drop of Nelson's blood wouldn't do us any harm (3x)
And we'll all hang on behind.
* So we'll roll the golden chariot along
An' we'll roll the golden chariot along.
So we'll roll the golden chariot along
An' we'll all hang on behind!
A plate of Irish stew wouldn't do us any harm…
A nice fat cook wouldn't do us any harm…
A roll in the clover wouldn't do us any harm…
A long spell in gaol wouldn't do us any harm…
A round on the house wouldn't do us any harm…
A glass of hot whiskey wouldn't do us any harm…
If the devil's in the road, we'll roll it over him…
The Widow and the Devil
Lyrics and music Mick Ryan, Original song name “The Widow’s Promise”
High atop a lonely moor, a Widow lived alone.
An Inn she kept, and as she slept,
her pillow heard her moan:
“Oh, many’s the lonely traveler
has spent the night with me,
but there’s no a man in all creation
gives content to me!
“Well, some can manage once or twice,
and some make three or four;
but it seems to me a rarity
is the man who can do more.
I’d do anything to find him,
in Heaven or in Hell.”
And as she spoke these words,
sure, she heard her front door bell.
* And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow’s moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.
So boldly ran the Widow,
and the door did open wide,
and as she did, a tall and handsome
stranger stepped inside.
Well, she gave him bread and brandy,
and when that he was fed,
he said, “My dear, now have no fear;
it’s time to come to bed.
“For I’ve heard your plea
right down below,
and I’ve come to see you right.
But you must come to Hell with me
if I can last the night.”
She said, “You randy Devil!
To this bargain I’ll agree,
for Hell on Earth, or Hell in Hell,
it’s all the same to me!”
Now, as they tumbled in the bed,
the Devil, he proved well…
and he thought before the night would end
that she’d be in his Hell.
Ah, but when they came to number nine,
the Widow cried out, “More!”
And when the twelfth time came around,
the Widow cried, “Encore!”
At twenty-five the Devil
felt compelled to take a rest,
but the Widow cried,
“Come raise your head,
and put me to the test!”
At sixty-nine, the Widow laughed.
“Again! Again!” she cried,
and the Devil said,
“Well, I can see just how your husband died!”
At ninety-nine, the Devil
he began to wail and weep.
He said, “I’ll give you anything,
if you’ll let me go to sleep!”
But before the morning light was up,
the Devil hobbled home,
and the Widow, still not satisfied,
once more was left alone.
She lay there on her pillow
and she thought on ninety-nine.
“It’s a pity that poor old Devil
couldn’t manage one more time!
I’ll call him up again tonight
to see what can be done –
with a little more application,
we could make it to the ton!”
But when she called to him that night,
no Devil did appear.
For the first time in Eternity,
the Devil, he shook with fear.
He said, “Of all the torments
I’ve witnessed here in Hell,
I never knew what pain was,
’til I rang your front door bell!”
St Patrick’s Day Leprechaun, aka The Leprechaun
lyrics and music by Marc Gunn
There's a Leprechaun in me head, and I wish that I were dead
For I don't think he'll e'er let me be.
Oh, he tempts me with his gold, and if I were e'er so bold,
I'd strangle him and leave him in the street.
* Well, he says to me, “Ah, you're no Irish Laddie!
And ye call that thing a harp?”
But each time I share the lore that I am learning.
He hides in shame while my friends they chant.
La ta tee, da diddley dee, la ta tee ta tee da
La ta tee, da diddley diddley dai
La ta tee, da diddley dee, la ta tee ta tee da
La ta tee, da diddley diddley dai
There's a leprechaun in my room. He swats me with a broom.
That's the reason I forget the words of this song.
Well, he shows me a four-leaf clover, and before me song is over,
It's buried in a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Ther'es a leprechaun on the floor, and he says that I'm a bore.
He yawns aloud as I sing my song.
He feigns one last breathe stolen, but I see his eyes are open.
And he's watching me with envy deep inside.
There's a leprechaun on a hill, and his gold is buried there.
So I grab him by the neck ‘fore he gets away.
The pot's too heavy, he giggles, so I pinch me just a little,
And he thinks he's fooled me as I run away.
Rosin the Bow
lyrics and music traditional
I’ve traveled this wide world all over
And now to another I go.
And I know the good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Bow.
To welcome old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
And I know the good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Bow.
When I’m dead and laid out on the counter
A voice you will hear from below,
Saying “Send down a hogshead of whisky
To drink with old Rosin the Bow.
To drink with old Rosin the Bow”. (x2)
Saying “Send down a hogshead of whisky
To drink with old Rosin the Bow”.
Then get a half dozen stout fellows
And line them all up in a row
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles
To the memory of Rosin the Bow
To the memory of Rosin the Bow (x2)
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles
To the memory of Rosin the Bow
Then get a half dozen stout fellows
And line them all stagger and go
And let ‘em dig a great hole in the meadow
And in it put Rosin the Bow.
And in it put Rosin the Bow. (x2)
Let ‘em dig a great hole in the meadow
And in it put Rosin the Bow.
Then get ye a couple of bottles.
Put one at me head and me toe.
With a diamond ring scratched upon ‘em
The name of old Rosin the Bow.
The name of old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
With a diamond ring scratched upon ‘em
The name of old Rosin the Bow.
I feel that grim reaper approaching,
That cruel remorseless old foe,
And I lift up me glass in his honour.
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow.
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
And I lift up me glass in his honour.
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow.
Johnny Jump Up
lyrics and music traditional
I'll tell you a story that happened to me
One day as I went down to Yore by the sea
The sun it was hot and the day it was warm,
Says I a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm
I went in and I called for a bottle of stout
Says the barman, I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out
Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood
Says I, I'll try cider, I've heard it was good.
* Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to be a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up
After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up
After downing the third I went out to the yard
Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard
Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law?
Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw
He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up
But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas Johnny Jump Up
The next thing I remember down in Cork by the sea
Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me
I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car
Won't you help me across to the Celtic Knot Bar?
After downing a quart of that cider so sweet
He threw down his crutches and danced on his feet
I went up the lee road, a friend for to see
They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Sea
Butl when I got there, sure the truth I will tell,
They had this poor bugger locked up in a cell
Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can,
“Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran”
Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad
It was only a sip of the bottle I had
Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb
They washed him and laid him outside on the slab
And after the parlors measurements did take
His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake
Twas about 12 o'clock and the beer was high
The corpse sits up and says with a sigh
I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up
Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up
So if ever you go down to Cork by the sea
Stay out of the ale house and take it from me
If you want to stay sane don't you dare take a sup
Of that devil drink cider called Johnny Jump Up
St. Patrick Never Drank
lyrics M. Spaff Sumsion, music Marc Gunn
The 14th day of February’s for Saint Valentine
September 29th is when Saint Michael’s faithful dine
On April 23rd we hail Saint George without restraint
And come November 1st we cheer for EV’RY bloody saint
But none of those can claim the very BEST day of the year
‘Cause on March 17th we praise the patron saint of BEER!
[Cheers: “Hail St Patrick!” “Slainte!” etc.]
But wait! Don’t cheer for greenish beer or Irish cream liqueur
Be-cause the man you toast was one devout tee-to-tal-ER!
Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!)
Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!)
‘Twas only clear, unleaded stuff he poured into his tank!
He’d take the cash YOU spend for drafts and stash it in the bank! (Hooray!)
Heroic, true, but STOIC too!
Saint Patrick never drank!
He strode with ancient war-ri-ors from coast to plain to highland
His staff he’d shake till ev’ry snake was banished from the island
He taught his fans the shamrock stands for Father, Son, and Spirit
But don’t break out the Guinness Stout – the man would not go near it!
Saint Patrick didn’t drink! (Hey!)
Saint Patrick didn’t drink! (Hey!)
He never tossed a bracer back or teetered on the brink!
So pour another tall one, lad, then pour it down the sink! (Hooray!)
With piety, SOBRIETY!
Saint Patrick didn’t drink!
Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!)
Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!)
So let’s be frank: When asked his fav’rite beer, he drew a blank!
By gosh, if he could see you sloshed, he’d give your tush a spank! (Hooray!)
The guy was swell – but DRY AS HELL!
Saint Patrick never drank!
No, SAINT – PAT – RICK – NEV – ER – DRANK!
Dicey Riley
lyrics and music traditional
Poor old Dicey Riley she has taken to the sup.
Poor old Dicey Riley she will never give it up.
For it’s off each morning to the hock
Where she goes in for another little drop
Ah the heart of the rowl is Dicey Riley
She walks along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air
And then it’s down by Summerhill, where the people stare
She says “It’s nearly half past one
It’s time I had another little one.’
Ah the heart of the rowl is Dicey Riley.
She owns a little sweet shop at the corner of the street
And every evening after school I go to wash her feet
She leaves me there to mind the shop while she nips in for another little drop
Ah the heart of the rowl is Dicey Riley
Arthur McBride
words and music Traditional
I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride
He and I took a stroll down by the seaside;
To seek for good fortune and what might betide
Bring just as the day was a'dawnin'
Then after resting we both took a dram
and met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Cramp
And besides a wee drummer who beat up the camp
With his rowdy-dow-dow in the morning
He said, “My young fellows if you will enlist
A guinea you quickly will have in your fist
And besides a whole crown for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning
Had we been such fools as to take the advance;
With the wee bit of money we'd have to run chance
For you'd think it no scruples to send us to France;
Where we would be killed in the morning
He said, “My young fellows if I hear but one word
I instantly now will out with my sword
And into your bodies as strength will afford;
So now my gay devils take warning.”
But Arthur and we soon took the odds;
And we gave them no time for to draw out their blades
Our trusty shillelaghs came over their heads
And paid them right smart in the morning
As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pouch
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow
And into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade him a tedious returning
As for the old rapier that hung by his side
We flung it as far as we could in the tide
“To the Devil I pitch you,” said Arthur McBride
” To temper your steel in the morning.”
Old Dun Cow (MacIntyre)
words and music Harry Wincott, additional verses by Brad Howard
Some friends and I in a public house
Was playing a game of chance one night
When into the pub a fireman ran
His face all a chalky white.
“What’s up”, says Brown, “Have you seen a ghost,
Or have you seen your Aunt Mariah?”
“Me Aunt Mariah be buggered!”, says he,
“The bleedin’ pub’s on fire!”
And there was Brown upside down
Lappin” up the whiskey on the floor.
“Booze, booze!” The firemen cried
As they came knockin’ on the door (clap clap)
Oh don’t let ‘em in till it’s all drunk up
And somebody shouted MacIntyre! MACINTYRE!
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.
“Oh well,” says Brown, “What a bit of luck.
Everybody follow me.
And it’s down to the cellar
If the fire’s not there
Then we’ll have a grand old spree.”
So we went on down after good old Brown
The booze we could not miss
And we hadn’t been there ten minutes or more
Till we were quite pissed.
Then, Smith walked over to the port wine tub
And gave it just a few hard knocks (clap clap)
Started takin’ off his pantaloons
Likewise his shoes and socks.
“Hold on, ” says Brown, “that ain’t allowed
Ya cannot do that thing here.
Don’t go washin’ trousers in the port wine tub
When we got Guinness beer.”
Then there came from the old back door
The Vicar of the local church.
And when he saw our drunken ways,
He began to scream and curse.
“Ah, you drunken sods! You heathen clods!
You’ve taken to a drunken spree!
You drank up all the Benedictine wine
And you didn’t save a drop for me!”
And then there came a mighty crash
Half the bloody roof caved in.
We were almost drowned in the firemen’s hose
But still we were gonna stay.
So we got some tacks and some old wet sacks
And we nailed ourselves inside
And we sat drinking the finest Rum
Till we were bleary-eyed.
Later that night, when the fire was out
We came up from the cellar below.
Our pub was burned. Our booze was drunk.
Our heads was hanging low.
“Oh look”, says Brown with a look quite queer.
Seems something raised his ire.
“Now we gotta get down to Murphy’s Pub,
It closes on the hour!”
Isn’t It Grand, Boys?
lyrics and music Traditional
Look at the coffin with golden handles
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Let’s not have a sniffle,
Let’s have a bloody good cry
And always remember the longer you live,
The sooner you’ll bloody well die
Look at the preacher, bloody well santified (bloody sanctimonious)
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the choir boys, bloody castrati
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the widow, bloody great female
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the mourners, bloody great hippocrites
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the flowers, all bloody wilted
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the tombstone, bloody great boulder
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
Look at the whiskey, in buckets and bottles
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?
The Parting Glass
words and music Traditional
Of all the money that ere I had, I spent it in good company.
And of all the harm that ere I've done, alas was done to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I cannot recall.
So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.
Of all the comrades that ere I had, they're sorry for my going away,
And of all the sweethearts that ere I had , they wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise while you should not,
I will gently rise and I'll softly call, “Goodnight and joy be with you all!”
Oh, if I had money enough to spend and leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this town that sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosey cheeks and ruby lips, she alone has my heart in thrall.
So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.
