| Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed
|
| But join with me, each jovial blade
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| Come, drink and sing and lend your aid
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| To help me with the chorus:
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| Instead of spa, we’ll drink brown ale
|
| And pay the reckoning on the nail;
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| No man for debt shall go to jail
|
| From Garryowen in glory
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| We are the boys who take delight
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| In smashing Limerick lamps at night
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| And through the street like sportsters fight
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| Tearing all before us
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| Instead of spa, we’ll drink brown ale
|
| And pay the reckoning on the nail;
|
| No man for debt shall go to jail
|
| From Garryowen in glory
|
| We’ll break the windows, we’ll break down doors
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| The watch knock down by threes and fours
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| And let the doctors work their cures
|
| And tinker up our bruised
|
| Instead of spa, we’ll drink brown ale
|
| And pay the reckoning on the nail;
|
| No man for debt shall go to jail
|
| From Garryowen in glory
|
| We’ll beat the bailiffs out of fun
|
| We’ll make the mayor and sheriffs run
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| We are the boys no man dares dun
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| If he regards a whole skin
|
| Instead of spa, we’ll drink brown ale
|
| And pay the reckoning on the nail;
|
| No man for debt shall go to jail
|
| From Garryowen in glory
|
| Our hearts so stout have got us fame
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| For soon 'tis known from whence we came
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| Where’er we go they fear the name
|
| Of Garryowen in glory |