bushmills, though I prefer jameson
I used to go out drinking with an irishman
and play paul mccartney in ira pubs
'are you english or an englishman' they'd ask me
what the fuck
can't I tap my foot to the fiddle like you
we'd have a few - and when he forgot he was born in hull
he'd get all sentimental for danny bouy
and draw on a beermat his lines of advance
great sweeping lines they were
up they'd come from donegal, monaghan
sligo and leith
dancing jigs like on the somme
and I used to say to him 'oo you foiten'
he din't know, or din't care
stick a bomb in bin, blow up a kiddie
what the fuck - we'd had a feu
he's been to confession
I've had a wank
and the cat still visits the queen
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