I'd never been over there before,
that feckin' man -killin' Irish sea
didn't know if it would float
Jeez Loic, it really should
It had cracks and splinters,
I'd seen two hundred winters
Two cricket bats for the oars
By the time I started to shade myself
I was in between two shores
If this feckin' boat doesn't kill me first
The two burly Irish sailors
But that bet was a certain loser,
I would never puke on that tub
Cause I had a folded fifty pound note,
Now I wasn't gonna give up that dosh,
It was for my drinkin' antics,
I'm going in style to the Emerald Isle
Where I'll leave me footprint
Gonna find me a port far away
Gonna sit on me soaking arse all day,
have a scrap and a drunken wrestle
I must admit, the people are quite mellow
Or you'll leave there sick and yellow
I'll leave in style from the Emerald Isle
I've been here for a while,
I'm leaving here from the
Those two burly Irish sailors,
they now chaperone my box
and to this I must concede
that has left me stiff and blue
I blame the drink, the weather
and that plate of pickled coo
Back in Stoyle from the Emerald Isle
They came in fast and thirsty
Just like a rolling thunder
Have a drink to an absent friend
This is the feckin' N -O -A -O,
And not the drunken blunder.
