| Gather 'round ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while
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| And harken to me mournful tale about the Emerald Isle
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| Let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone
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| And lift our voices in another Irish drinkin' song
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| Consumption took me mother and me father got the pox
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| Me brother drank the whiskey 'till he wound up in a box
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| Me other brother in the troubles met with his demise
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| Me sister has forever closed her smilin' Irish eyes
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| Now everybody’s died, so until our tears are dried
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| We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more
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| We’ll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Kenny was killed in Kilkenny and Claire she died in Clare
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| Tip from Tipperary died out in the Derry air
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| Shannon jumped into the river Shannon back in June
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| Ernie fell into the Erne and Tom is in the Toome
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| «Cleanliness is godliness,» me Uncle Pat would sing
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| He broke his neck a-slippin' on a bar of Irish Spring
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| O’Grady he was eighty, 'tho his bride was just a pup
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| He died upon the honeymoon when she got his Irish up (HEY!)
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| Now everybody’s died, so until our tears are dried
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| We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more
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| We’ll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Mexican hat dance
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| Joe Murphy fought with Reilly near the Cliffs of Old Dooneen
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| He took out his shillelagh and he stabbed him in the spleen
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| Crazy Uncle Mike thought he was a leprechaun
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| But in fact he’s just a leper and his arms and legs are gone
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| When Timmy Johnson broke his neck it was a cryin' shame
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| He wasn’t really Irish, but he went to Notre Dame
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| MacNamara crossed the street and by a bus was hit
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| But he was just a Scotsman so nobody gave a shit (OCH!)
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| Now everybody’s died, so until our tears are dried
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| We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more
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| We’ll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Hava Nagila Ole!
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| Me drunken Uncle Brendan tried to drive home from the bar
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| The road rose up to meet him when he fell out of his car
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| Irony was what befell me Great Grand Uncle Sam
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| He choked upon the very last potato in the land
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| Connor lived in Ulster town, he used to smuggle arms
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| Until the British killed him and cut off his lucky charms
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| And dear old Father Flanagan who left the Lord’s employ
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| Drunk on sacramental wine beneath the altar boy (HEY!)
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| Now everybody’s died, so until our tears are dried
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| We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more
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| We’ll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Someday soon I’ll leave this world of pain and toil and sin
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| The Lord will take me by the hand to join all of me kin
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| Me only wish is when the Savior comes for me and you
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| He kills the cast of Riverdance and Michael Flatley too
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| Now everybody’s died, so until our tears are dried
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| We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink and then we’ll drink some more
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| We’ll dance and sing and fight until the early mornin' light
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again
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| Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up and then go drinkin' once again |