One summer evening drunk to hell I sat there nearly lifeless An old man in the corner sang Where the waterlilies grow And on the jukebox Johnny sang About a thing called love And it's "How are you kid?" And "What's your name?" and "How would you bloody know?" In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky I lay down on the ground And the arms and legs of other men Were scattered all around Some cursed some prayed some prayed then cursed Then prayed and bled some more And the only thing that I could see Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me But when we got back labelled parts one to three There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go For a pair of brown eyes For a pair of brown eyes I looked at him he looked at me, All I could do was hate him. While Ray and Philomena sang, Of my elusive dream. I saw the streams and the rolling hills, Where his brown eyes were waiting. And I thought about a pair of brown eyes, That waited once for me, That waited once for me. So drunk as hell I left the place, Sometimes walking, sometimes crawling. A hungry sound came through the breeze, So I gave the walls a talking. And I heard the sounds of long ago, From the old canal. And the birds were whistling in the trees, Where the wind was gently laughing. And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go, A rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go, And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go, For a pair of brown eyes, For a pair of brown eyes.

I've been loving you a long time Down all the years, down all the days And I've cried for all your troubles Smiled at your funny little ways We watched our friends grow up together And we saw them as they fell Some of them fell into Heaven Some of them fell into Hell I took a shelter from a shower And I stepped into your arms On a rainy night in Soho The wind was whistling all its charms I sand you all my sorrows You told me all your joys Whatever happened to that old song To all those little girls and boys Sometimes I wake up in the morning The gingerlady by my bed Covered in a cloak of silence I hear you talking in my head I'm not singing for the future I'm not dreaming of the past I'm not talking of the first time I never think about the last Now the song is nearly over We may never find out what it means Still there's a light I hold before me And you're the measure of my dreams The measure of my dreams

See the bright new moon is rising, Above the land of black and green Hear the rebels voices calling, I will not die 'till you bury me The aunt upstairs in the bed she is calling, Why has he forsaken me Faded pictures in the hallway, Which one of them brown ghosts is he Bless the wind that shakes the barley, Curse the spade and curse the plough I've counted years and weeks and days, And I wish to God I was with you now Fare thee well me black-haired diamond, Fare thee well me own Aisling At night fond dreams of you still haunt me, Far across the grey north sea And the wind it blows from the North and South, To the East And to the West I will be like the wind my love, For I will know no rest 'till I return to thee 1, 2, 3 telegraph poles, Standing on the cold black road The night is fading into morning, Give us a drop of your sweet poitin The rain was lashing - the sun was rising, The wind was howling through the trees The madness from the mountains crawling, When I saw you first my own Aisling Bless the wind that shakes the barley, Curse the spade and curse the plough I've counted years and weeks and days, And I wish to God I was with you now Fare thee well me black-haired diamond, Fare thee well me own Aisling At night fond dreams of you still haunt me, Far across the grey north sea

When I was a young man, I carried my pack. And I lived the free life, of a rover. >From the Murray's green basin, To the dusty outback, I waltzed my matilda all over. Then in 1915, my country said "son" "It's time to stop rambling," "Cos there's work to be done." So they gave me a tin hat, And they gave me a gun, And they sent me away to the war. And the band played Waltzing Matilda, As we sailed away from the quay. And amidst all the tears, And the shouts and the cheers, We sailed off for Galipoli How well I remember that terrible day, when the blood stained the sand and the water. And how in that hell that they called Souvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. Johnny Turk, he was ready, He'd primed himself well. He showered us with bullets, And he rained us with shells. And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell. Nearly blew us right back to Australia. And the band played Waltzing Matilda, As we stopped to bury our slain. And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs, And it started all over again. Now those who were living, Did their best to survive, In that mad world of guts, blood, and fire. And for seven long weeks, I kept myself alive, As the corpses around me piled higher. Then a big Turkish shell, Knocked me arse over tit. And when I awoke in my hospital bed, And saw what it had done, Christ I wished I was dead. Never knew there were worse things than dying. And no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda, To the green bushes so far and near. For to hang tent and pegs A man needs two legs. No more Waltzing Matilda for me. So they collected the crippled, The wounded and maimed, And they shipped us back home to Australia. The legless, the armless, the blind and insane. Those proud wounded heroes of Souvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where my legs used to be. And thank Christ, there was nobody waiting for me, To grieve and to mourn and to pity. And the band played Waltzing Matilda, As they carried us down the gangway. But nobody cheered, They just stood and stared, And they turned their faces away. And now every April, I sit on my porch, And I watch the parades pass before me. I see my old comrades, How proudly they march. Reliving the dreams of past glory. I see the old men, all twisted and torn. The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war. And the young people ask me, What are they marching for? And I ask my self the same question. And the band plays Waltzing Matilda, And the old men still answer the call. But year after year, Their numbers get fewer, Someday no-one will march there at all. Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me?

I met my love, by the gas works wall Dreamed a dream, by the old canal I kissed my girl, by the factory wall Dirty old town, dirty old town Clouds are drifting across the moon Cats are prowling on their beats Springs a girl on the streets at night dirty old town, dirty old town Heard a siren from the dock saw a train cut the night on fire smelled the breeze on the smokey wind dirty old town, dirty old town I'm going to make me a big sharp ax Shining steel tempered in the fire I'll chop you down like an old dead tree dirty old town, dirty old town I met my love, by the gas works wall Dreamed a dream, by the old canal I kissed my girl, by the factory wall Dirty old town, dirty old town Dirty old town, dirty old town

It was Christmas Eve babe, In the drunktank An old man said to me, won't see another one And then he sang a song, The Rare Old Mountain Dew I turned my face away And dreamed about you Got on a lucky one Came in eighteen to one I've got a feeling This year's for me and you So happy Christmas, I love you baby I can see a better time When all our dreams come true They've got cars Big as bars They've got rivers of gold But the wind goes right through you It's no place for the old When you first took my hand On a cold Christmas Eve You promised me Broadway was waiting for me You were handsome You were pretty Queen of New York City When the band finished playing They howled out for more Sinatra was swinging All the drunks they were singing We kissed on the corner Then danced through the night The boys of the NYPD choir Were singing 'Galway Bay' And the bells were ringing Out for Christmas day You're a bum You're a punk You're an old slut on junk Living there almost dead on a drip In that bed You scum bag You maggot You cheap lousy faggot Happy Christmas your arse I pray God It's our last The boys of the NYPD choir Still singing 'Galway Bay' And the bells are ringing Out for Christmas Day I could have been someone Well, So could anyone You took my dreams From me when I first found you I kept them with me babe I put them with my own Can't make it all alone I've built my dreams around you The boys of the NYPD choir Still Singing 'Galway Bay' And the bells are ringing Out for Christmas Day

You gotta walk that mile Honeychild You gotta walk that mile Honeychild Well I'll show you what is hip As we walk down Leeson strip And I'll do it for the ghost of a smile Just the ghost the ghost of a smile Just the ghost the ghost of a smile You can't take it with you when you go You can't take it with you when you go You gotta walk walk that mile And I'll be with you Honeychild And I'll do it for the ghost of a smile Don't wait too long don't wait too long Don't wait too long or I'll be gone Don't wait too long don't wait too long Don't wait too long or I'll be gone

On the Fourth of July, eighteen hundred and six We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the Grand City Hall in New York 'Twas an elegant craft, rigged fore and aft And oh, how the wild wind drove her She could stand a great blast, She had twenty seven masts And they called her The Irish Rover We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of stone We had three million sides of old blind horses hides We had four million barrels of bone We had five million hogs, And six million dogs Seven million barrels of porter We had eight million bails of old nanny-goats' tails In the hold of the Irish Rover There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute When the ladies lined up for a set He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet With his smart witty talk he was cock of the walk And he rolled the dames under and over They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance That he sailed in The Irish Rover There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work And a chap from Westmeath called Malone There was Slugger O'Toole, drunk as a rule Fighting Bill Treacy from Dover And your man, Mick MacCann from the banks of the Bann Was the skipper of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And our ship lost its way in the fog And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two Just myself and the Captain's old dog Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord! what a shock The boat it flipped right over Turned nine times around, and the poor old dog was drowned I'm the last of the The Irish Rover

One summer evening drunk to hell I sat there nearly lifeless An old man in the corner sang where the waterlilies grow And on the jukebox Johnny sang about a thing called love and it's how are you kid and whats your name and how would you bloody know In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky I lay down on the ground And the arms and legs of other men Were scattered all around Some cursed some prayed some prayed then cursed Then prayed and bled some more And the only thing that I could see Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me But when we got back labelled parts one to three There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go For a pair of brown eyes For a pair of brown eyes I looked at him he looked at me all I could do was hate him While Ray and Philomena sang of my elusive dream I saw the streams the rolling hills where his brown eyes were waiting And I thought about a pair of brown eyes that waited once for me So drunk to hell I left the place sometimes crawling sometimes walking A hungry sound came across the breeze so I gave the walls a talking And I heard the sounds of long ago from the old canal And the birds were whistling in the trees where the wind was gently laughing

The island it is silent now But the ghosts still haunt the waves And the torch lights up a famished man Who fortune could not save Did you work upon the railroad Did you rid the streets of crime Were your dollars from the white house Were they from the five and dime Did the old songs taunt or cheer you And did they still make you cry Did you count the months and years Or did your teardrops quickly dry Ah, No, says he 'twas not to be On a coffin ship I came here And I never even got so far That they could change my mind Thousands are still sailing Across the Western Ocean To a land of opportunity That some of them will never see Fortune prevailing Across the Western Ocean Their bellies full And their spirits free They'll break the chains of poverty And they'll dance In Manhattan's desert twilight In the death of afternoon We stepped hand in hand on Broadway Like the first man on the moon And "The Blackbird" broke the silence As you whistled it so sweet And in Brendan Behan's footsteps I danced up and down the street Then we said goodnight to Broadway Giving it our best regards Tipped our hats to Mister Cohan Dear old Times Square's favourite bard Then we raised a glass to J.F.K. And a dozen more besides When I got back to my empty room I suppose I must have cried Thousands are sailing Again across the ocean Where the hand of opportunity Draws tickets in a lottery Postcards we're mailing Of sky-blue skies and oceans From rooms the daylight never sees Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees But we dance to the music And we dance Thousands are sailing Across the Western Ocean Where the hand of opportunity Draws tickets in a lottery Where e'er we go, we celebrate The land that makes us refugees From fear of Priests with empty plates From guilt and weeping effigies And we dance