Now there was a church on our street

Where the Protestants they used to meet

But when all the faithful departed

The cannon was left broken hearted

Now he was offered ten grand

For the use of his sanctified land

With the sale of this wonderful site

He’d be well off overnight


But the locals put up a protest

This old building was one of the best

When developers said “Compromise”

The natives looked on in surprise

Instead of being knocked to the ground

They said they’d just move it around

The bricks they were numbered and tagged

And packed up in boxes and bags


They loaded it all up on trucks

And the drivers were all waved “Good Luck!’

As they headed off into the night

But something wasn’t quite right

They left in a terrible rush

Which caused the poor parson to flush

He looked like he’d just seen a ghost

And he choked on his beans and his toast


Now the Lord appeared to the poor man

Saying “You’d better get lost while you can

The people of Lawrence O’Tooles

Don’t like it when they have been fooled

You’d better pack up your gear

And like the church, just disappear!”

But the thing that upset him the most

Was that his check was still in the post


The years they seem to have flown

But the church it never came home

Never again did it’s bell

Ring out the time for to tell

But it’s memory still lingers on

In legends and in song

If the truckers they e’re find their way

The church will be back home to stay