| Well I consented to throw a ball
|
| And out they all were turning
|
| All the wise ones, one and all
|
| All the men and women of learning
|
| All of learning the lazy ways
|
| Of rag men and their brothers
|
| Slothful artistic fools
|
| Who were tossed out by their mothers
|
| And there is never enough beer
|
| To put upon the table
|
| There is never enough wine
|
| To keep this party stable
|
| There is never enough booze
|
| To change this lonely weather
|
| There is never enough beer
|
| To keep anyone together
|
| All south of Earl and Meath
|
| Down by the liberties section
|
| Where mad man cough and bawl
|
| And suffer all class of infection
|
| To entertain my dear old friends
|
| Every whore and thief and tinker
|
| Who are loyal to the end
|
| For they’re loyal to a drink, sir
|
| And there is never enough beer
|
| To put upon the table
|
| There is never enough wine
|
| To keep this party stable
|
| There’s just never enough booze
|
| To keep the fires burning
|
| There’s just never enough beer
|
| To keep the torment from returning
|
| I toss and turn through every night
|
| Spent in agony and frustration
|
| For I was born a wanderer
|
| Oh a tireless occupation
|
| From town to town I go
|
| All dreaming of a homeland
|
| That I will never see
|
| For I never liked my first one
|
| And there is never enough beer
|
| To put upon the table
|
| There is never enough wine
|
| To keep this party stable |