| The boys from the village were festering sore
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| For a day on the rant with some music and more
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| They’d drink porter in Maura’s way over in Fore
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| And never get drunk but stay sober
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| There was Harry the banjo and Dunne of the swan
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| With whose bone from the wing he’d beat the bodhran
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| And the song that he’d sing was of ganders and all
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| He’d never get drunk but stay sober
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| There was Woods on the Guitar and auld squeeze box too
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| Who came from a time before aeroplanes flew
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| He’d sit in a corner and mule quite a few
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| And he’d never get drunk but stay sober
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| There was Mahon the singer who knew all the songs
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| And never was known to put a foot wrong
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| He’d sing through the night till the break o' the morn
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| And he’d never get drunk but stay sober
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| Then Harry the banjo now there was a man
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| A bottomless pit if ever there was one
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| More porter he’d lower that there was in the land
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| And he’d Never get drunk but stay sober
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| Well the Gartloney Rats would play away
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| They’d play for the pints and not for the pay
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| And the pints they’d go down in the usual way
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| And they’d never get drunk but stay sober |