King of the Swineherds



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.