Mildew musk half drownded rat
Soggy woodbine, auld tweed hat
Old Luke and Buffalo Johnny
Bid come all ye attendees
And whisht a while, imbibe
Enniscorthy travellers dreamtime
Side fading coals
In warm, dry bungalows
As wind lashes outside
Recalling a lady in her father’s garden
While sloping home early
in fine foggy dew.
Give me a groat and I’ll emote on hope and faith, and craic
Should you not meet me on the way, you can on the way back
From hollow land and silly land, to form and sound, and black
The song you hear will be our own and never will shirk or jack
Too good to be true, too simple to work, you say inside your head
That tapping on the roof you hear, is rhapsody robbing the lead.