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segunda-feira, 19 de janeiro de 2015

The Rumjacks - An Irish Pub Song

Eu tenho um problema com este tipo de gente...

E com este tipo de lugar.







Theres a county map to go on the wall,
A hurling stick & a shinty ball,
The bric, the brac, the craic & all,
Lets call it an Irish pub,
Caffreys, Harp, Kilkenny on tap,
The Guinness pie & that cabbage crap,
The ideal wannabee Paddy trap,
We'll call it an Irish pub,

Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book,
The only 'craic' you'll get is a slap in the ear,
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I'll up & burst yer filthy mug,
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer!

We'll raise the price o' beer a dollar,
We'll make em wear a shirt & collar,
We'll fly a bloody tri-colour,
And call it an Irish pub,
Jager bombs & double shots,
The underagers think its tops,
We'll spike the drinks & pay the cops,
We got us an Irish pub.

The quick one in the filthy bog,
The partin' glass across the lug,
O' the lady-O, the dirty dog,
We got us an Irish pub,
It's over to me and over to you,
We'll skip along the Avenue,
And who t'hell is Ronnie Drew?
We got us an Irish pub.

Plasma screens & neon lights,
Kara-farkin-oke nights,
The bouncers they can pick the fights,
We'll call it an Irish pub,
Plastic cups, a polished floor,

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