O Patrick where art thou
St. Patrick, a stór,
We need you now more
Than they did back in four thirty two.
You wouldn’t believe it,
You couldn’t conceive
Of the things our poor country’s gone through.
We’ve had ups, we’ve had downs
Led by heroes and clowns
Deciding our fate in high places.
We’ve had boom, we’ve had bust
We have bitten the dust
But we pulled ourselves up by our laces.
Now, our history books tell,
In response to your spell
The snakes all departed our shore.
But, Paraic, a mhic,
They’re slimey and slick
And you never locked up the back door.
Now they all walk around
They don’t crawl on the ground
As they did back away in your day.
They drive 161 cars,
Drink in all the posh bars
And speak Espanol, Deutch and Francais.
So Pat, me oul’ hack
Any chance you’d come back
And give it one more shot, your best.
For Ireland unfree of these leeches will be
Forever in strife and unrest.