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On Returning From Ireland

This song is by Poxy Boggards and appears on the album Liver Let Die - Celebrating Ten Years of Behaving Badly (2004).

Well we all set sail for Ireland
'Tis a place where good ale flows
Where the maidens are fair
In the warm summers air
And they sing songs that everyone knows

God help you if you are an englishman
For you better learn to drink quick
For those damned Irish lushes
They drink their ale in flushes
And they'll drink it all before you take a sip

We've been kicked out every pub in Ireland
We've been beaten within inches of our lives
For we act like asses to those fair Irish lasses
It's a wonder any one of us survived

Well the lasses there are quite pretty you see
Their beauty is the fairest work of art
And their Irish brew, can tame any rogue
And send cupid's arrow through his heart
But they talk too much and they won't shut up
And those cursed women do not know their place
For if you tell a bird to be seen and not heard
She will haul right off and punch you in your face

Well it was their I was drinking one fine mornin'
A scaring up some pretty Irish fun
When behind me there loomed such a shadow
And I leapt up from me seat for to run
Well I swear it was a mountain of muscle
That broke my jaw and threw me out the door
4 foot 7 was her height but her anger gave her might
And she looks big when you're lying on the floor

Well every wench gets a pinch on the arse
When they pass us with tankards of ale
And we loves to flirts and lift up their skirts
And offer them a fine English male
Well I offered one a penny for a roll in the hay
But that wench she cried and she (?)
But that penny should be dear
They don't make that in a year
It's a wonder they make anything at all

Well in good are the tales of our travels
And from them we pray that you will learn
That the girls from Arran's isle
Are much more than girls and smiles
Though in our English hearts for them we yearn
Like whiskey and bitters are moth and it's flame
A more volatile of mixtures can't be paired
So when you go a traveling
If that bodice your unraveling
Belongs to an Irish Lassie be prepared

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