| I’m waiting for John Murphy’s van, to take me to the site
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| Sure I’m working seven days a week
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| From morning to dark night
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| And when I step into the van and gently close the door
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| Sure the first thing that they ask me
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| What I did the night before
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| Take me back to Castlebar, in the county of Mayo
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| It’s the only place in Ireland I’m longing for to go
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| Where they greet you with a friendly smile
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| And they bid you time of day
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| When I set my foot in old Mayo, I never more will stray
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| Dirty Jack, the ganger man, he talks about the time
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| Himself and old John Murphy
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| Worked deep down in the mines
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| He says he meets him often at, the Dorchester Hotel
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| If you want to get promotion now
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| Get down and dig like hell
|
| — Short instrumental
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| Jack from Connemarra, when he gets in the hump
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| Sure he talks about the money he made
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| While working on the lump
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| Sure he blames old Maggie Thatcher
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| And the government as well
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| He said he’s made his money now, so they can go to hell
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| There’s another chap from Pakistan, no bigger than a duck |
| He sells his wares upon the site
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| They fell off of the back of a truck
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| He says he is a carpenter, and that might well be true
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| But I’ve never seen him working, he’s always in the loo
|
| — Short instrumental
|
| At the Duke of York on saturday night, McGraley does remit
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| He says he first came over here, in nineteen thirty-eight
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| That was the year before the war
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| If me memory serves me clear
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| For written on the factory wall, was 'No Irish wanted here' |