The Hobblers (Paul O’Brien)

 

They talk about Paris

And the Champs Elysees

And fancy wine bars

Where accordions do play

But you can’t get a pint

Or put on a bet

And a Vienna roll

Is called a baugette

 

And Rome with its fountains

And Appian Way

Where auld gladiators

Each other did slay

And all the cathedrals

In the Vatican state

With all their high ceilings

Fantastic to paint

 

You can’t whack the place

Where the ferries come in

Where porter is beer

And renaguing’s a sin

Or down by Poolbeg

For catching the fish

And watch where the Hobblers

Sailed out by the Kish

 

You can’t beat the stories

You hear on the quays

About great adventures

Out on the high seas

Or tales of canals

Like the Royal and Grand

And barges that travel

To harbours inland

 

You can’t whack the place

Where the ferries come in

Where porter is beer

And renaguing’s a sin

Or down by Poolbeg

For catching the fish

And watch where the Hobblers

Sailed out by the Kish

 

Let’s drink to a city

Bombs couldn’t kill

With barges and liners

To empty and fill

Here’s to the cattle boats

The crates and the sacks

Lanyards and gang planks

And breaking your back

 

You can’t whack the place

Where the ferries come in

Where porter is beer

And renaguing’s a sin

Or down by Poolbeg

For catching the fish

And watch where the Hobblers

Sailed out by the Kish