| Mccormack and richard tauber are singing by the bed
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| There’s a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head
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| There’s devils on each side of you with bottles in their hands
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| You need one more drop of poison and you’ll dream of foreign lands
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| When you pissed yourself in frankfurt and got syph down in cologne
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| And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone
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| Frank ryan brought you whiskey in a brothel in madrid
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| And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was cursing all the yids
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| At the sick bed of cuchulainn we’ll kneel and say a prayer
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| And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil’s in the chair
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| And in the euston tavern you screamed it was your shout
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| But they wouldn’t give you service so you kicked the windows out
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| They took you out into the street and kicked you in the brains
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| So you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again
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| At the sick bed of cuchulainn we’ll kneel and say a prayer
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| And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil’s in the chair
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| You remember that foul evening when you heard the banshees howl
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| There was lousy drunken bastards singing billy is in the bowl
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| They took you up to midnight mass and left you in the lurch
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| So you dropped a button in the plate and spewed up in the church
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| Now you’ll sing a song of liberty for blacks and paks and jocks
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| And they’ll take you from this dump you’re in and stick you in a box
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| Then they’ll take you to cloughprior and shove you in the ground
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| But you’ll stick your head back out and shout «we'll have another round»
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| At the graveside of cuchulainn we’ll kneel around and pray
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| And god is in his heaven, and billy’s down by the bay |