Well oft-times we grumble and oft-times we groan,
And oft-times we sit and we whinge and we moan,
Of how our sons and daughters are forced to leave home,
And bid farewell to ould Éireann.
In their hundreds and thousands, in gangs and in droves,
Well their packing their bags and they take to the road,
In some far distant land there’s a life they are owed,
For you know they won’t get it in Éireann.

Well its not a long journey, in the space of one day,
You can find yourself somewhere that’s far far away,
Where the sun often shines and it seldom is grey,
In direct opposition to Éireann.
You can then find a place not much rent for to give,
Large, big and comfy, not a bad place to live,
Not a dank one-roomed hovel for one thousand quid,
Like the ones that they’ll rent you in Éireann.

You may talk like a peasant, you may talk like a snob,
But when they hear your brogue sure they’ll throw you a job,
You are Gaelic, exotic, and you’ll make their hearts throb,
For you come from the land of ould Éireann.
Your people were warriors, your people were Gaels,
You withstood the Empire with your old ancient ways,
You survived the famine, you’ve seen some dark days,
Let’s drink to the health of ould Éireann.
Now life can be easy, life can be a sport,
Set up in the New World with a golden passport,
Free drink and kudos your eternal reward,
But your heart sinks when you think upon Éireann.
For you miss all the slagging, and for Jaysis’ sake,
All the hot bowls of coddle that your ma used to make,
And the misdirected respect you find hard to take,
For your only ashamed of ould Éireann.

Where the people are weak, and the people are spent,
From running in circles ’til their legs they are bent,
Lamenting the price of the petrol and the rent,
Ah we’re slow to learn in ould Éireann.
And the green rag that’s tied round our ears and our eyes,
Well it stops us from telling the truth from the lies,
For competitional patience we’d win the first prize,
For we’re too easy going in Éireann.

Where fools and madmen they do as they please,
The pennies in our hands they laugh as they seize,
Give away all that’s ours to flash companies,
As we beg for the scraps in ould Éireann.
We uphold the cult of the canny cute hoor,
Who steals from the mouths of the weak and the poor,
These charlatans, knaves, three-card trick men and boors,
Well they’re running the show in ould Éireann
With their cheap talk they fooled us, we were sold, we were had,
They took us by the hand and they led us to bed,
Bent us right over, punched us in the head,
And they took us right up the ould Éireann.
We awake in the mornings with heads that are sore,
In the Dáil sit the pimps, we are the whores,
We cannot lie back and take this anymore,
Things must come to a head in ould Éireann.

So if you’re in Australia or Amerikay,
And they drink to ould Éireann, well what can you say?
That your people aren’t warriors, nor are they saints,
But we should uphold our high reputation.
For it’s not too late to fight back and these tyrants eject,
Take back what’s ours from these primates erect,
Our purpose, our lives, and our own self-respect,
Then we’d have something to be proud of in Éireann.