The Pool Song.

May the lord upon high who rules the sky look down on your pubs and your bars
And the women and men all seated within neglecting their pints and their jars
The craic it is bad and the atmosphere sad every man has a face like a mule
For all he can do is to grab an old cue and starting playing that game of pool

When I was a boy it was always my joy to go to the pub each night
There were arguments, scraps and killings perhaps and everyone thought he was right
There were badgers and dogs and men from the bogs and young fellows acting the fool
But now there's no craic for every man jack has his arse in the air playing pool

To the local ale house after milking the cows every customer made their way
And there he would dwell and drink till he fell while the fiddles and pipes they did play
The jigs and the reels, the rattling of heels, polkas and slides were the rule
But now there's no chance of a tune or a dance for every one's playing the old pool

Well this pool you will find is a game that's designed for foolish illiterate louts
You put in four bob and pull out an old knob and a big shower of balls they come out
They're placed on the table and then if you're able you knock them all into a hole
More money goes in you start over again and you loose every bob of your dole

Now in the Irish free state all the people are bate from watching and playing this game
In their necks they have ricks that no doctor can fix and their backs and their shoulders are maimed
Their arses protrude in a manner most crude from being hoisted aloft in the air
And their eyeballs are sore and dripping with gore and they act in a manner most queer

So if you meet a young man whose face it is wan and his eyes have a vacant stare
His jaw it is slack and his head is thrown back and he can't tell a cob from a mare
His nostrils dilated his brow corrugated his manners like those of a fool
On your shirt you can bet that you have just met a man that's gone mad playing pool