I've been looking for this for ages, thanks for posting it, can i just ask one thing, is the attached the the correct order in which to sing this fine tune

CHANTAL DU CHAMPIGNON (Brian O' Rourke)

One night in a bar I was having a jar
When my destiny it beckoned
When a vision burst in on top of my thirst
And flattened my pint in a second
'Twas a lady fair with short blonde hair
And her beauty would shame all queens
With her glistening lips and her twisting hips
In her slim fitting Levi Jeans

I got off of my stool observed my first rule
I checked my fly and my fainne
And got ready for a story, all glitter and glory
Like Diarmuid agus Grainne
Well my opening line was "Hiya Sunshine
How's it goin? My name is John"
And with a toss of her head this goddess said
"I'm Chantal du Champignon"

"Bedad" says I "You're a thoroughbred
You're no cavewoman from Cavan
You're exotic operatic and very aromatic
So tell us what are you havin?"
From the furrow on her brow I could see just how
She was torn between the short and the long
"I'll have an Irish Coffee and a pint of Murphy's"
Said Chantal du Champignon

She'd been travelling around and as yet she hadn't found
No savages scouting for scalps
She'd scaled the peaks of Kildare and Leix
Which left her homesick for the Alps
She'd seen nearly all of Donegal
She'd learned "Slainte" and "Slan agus Beannacht"
'Till some racial purist who couldn't stand tourists
Told her go to hell or to Connacht

So here she stands with a week on her hands
Before flying back to France
And she'd like to get to know Galway and Mayo
So boys I saw my chance
I said "I'm your man, I've a Hiace van
And I've damn all to do just now
And my five acre farm won't come to any harm
Sure the calf can milk the cow.

Oh to you I'll show Galway and Mayo
My privilege and my pleasure
And for fear you'd grumble, sure I'll do like Cromwell
And throw Clare in for good measure
So to hell with the silage. Lets clock up some mileage
You'll be as safe as with your Daddy"
She said "I like you more than I did before
I'll have a Smithwicks and a Paddy"

So into the van and away we ran
All along the western seaboard
And the notes from her voice were twice as nice
As those from any keyboard.
For example, "Oh John you turn me on,
You completely fill up my senses
And I can see in your eyes all the stars in the skies
Shining out through your contact lenses.



So I pulled up the van and she said, "Oh John
Please don't take it amiss"
I said "That's not you'll find what I had in mind"
Sure all I want to take is a kiss"
Well her eyes shone bright and her teeth gleamed white
And her breath it smelled of garlic
And she tore into my lips like fish and chips
In the shadows of Croagh Patrick

In the county Clare I do declare
We drank many's the tasty beverage
And the intensity of our propensity
Was way above the average
Then I offered to show her the Cliffs of Moher
And she showed me a thing or two too
And in O'Connors of Doolin she said, "I'm not foolin,
I want to spend my life with you.

So next day we drove by creek and cove,
All along the western seaboard
And the music of her voice was twice as nice
As the notes from any keyboard.
For example: "Oh John, you turn me on
You completely fill up my senses
I can see in your eyes, all the stars of the skies
Shining out through your contact lenses!

Well after such happiness, there was no stopping us
We clocked up hundreds of miles
We spent thousands of hours around round towers
Of various slants and styles
Near passage graves and lakes and caves
And historic and holy places
Near saint and hero, we reduced to zero
The distance between our faces

Then at Poulnabrone, under twenty ton of stone
We drank rainbow-coloured wines
Oh, Inside that dolmen, I thought of King Solomon
He could keep his concubines.
Then I offered to show her the Cliffs of Moher
And she showed me a thing or two too,
And in a pub down in Doolin, she said "I'm not foolin
I want to spend my life with you.

Well the days flew fast and the week soon passed
Between one thing and another
And she'd a plane to catch back to Paris-Match
To see her father and her mother
So we loaded up the van with cheese and ham
And some six packs from the fridge
With a Guinness keg for the final leg
Of our amourous pilgrimage.

In the ruins of Clonfert, we had a little flirt.
I thought I heard Saint Brendan cheerin'.
And we discovered new joys in Clonmacnoise,
Courtesy of Saint Ciaran.
We drew into Dunlavin at twenty-five to seven
And dropped in to see my Uncle Fred,
Then we hit Glendalough around eleven o'clock
And we slept in Saint Keven's bed.



Well, the two of us were yawning as the day was dawning
And it dawned on me - she was going,
So we drove to the smoke where these words she spoke
Before she boarded the Boeing:
"I'll acquaint my parents with what's transpired,
And my paltry possessions I'll pack,
Then I'll return on wings of desire
And up with you I'll shack."

That night I flew through Athlone and Ballinasloe.
I was home in an hour and a half!
And though it was kinda late, I just had to celebrate,
So I killed the fatted calf,
And next day I booked a room for my upcoming honeymoon
Where no-one would be any wiser,
And in raptures and raptures, I published my nuptials
In the Galway Advertiser!

For six days or seven, I thought I was in heaven.
I was trying it out for size,
But like every other lover, I was shortly to discover
'Twas an amadán's paradise,
For while I was thinking that the Kingdom had come,
And was chantin' "Alleluia,"
Chantal was listening to a different drum
And singing, "Johnny, I hardly knew ye!"

"Oh, John," said she, "I quite agree
That you could do with a woman,
But if you think I'll be your shrink,
You've got another think coming.
Consider, besides, if I was your bride,
In forty years, I would have no fun,
For I'm no more than twenty-four
And you are forty-one!

"Oh, yes, I know I'll miss your eyes and your kiss
And your fingers running through my hair,
But if I lost my head in St. Kevin's bed,
I got it back in the clear French air!
I got off that jet and my parents I met
And I got my act together.
I saw the line they'd draw at a son-in-law
Who was a middle-aged Irish header."

"Oh, but as sure as I'm blonde, of you I'm still fond,
And I might even write - we'll see -
And I don't regret and I won't forget
Our petit coin du paradis.
Now, I'm in a little hurry - be happy, don't worry
And think how much you have grown."
And when I opened my face to plead my case,
She put down the frigging phone!

Oh, was she down at heel in the town of Lille
Or at large in La Rochelle?
Or letting down her hair in the Follies Bergere
- Belly-dancing her way to hell?
Was she singing the blues, below in Toulouse
Or picking pockets in Perpignan?
And, mein Gott! but what if her name was not
Chantal de Champignon?



Well, I'd lost the scent so gung-o I went
To phone Monsieur Mitterand.
But I couldn't connect with the President
Although I threatened his aide-de-camp.
Then the towel I threw, I resigned, withdrew
Although I had done no wrong.
Oh, I thought I had her taped - but the vixen she escaped
Like Marie de Robinson!

Now, an awful lot of water has been led to the slaughter
Since she led me that merry dance.
And I never took a wife, for I wasted my whole life
Looking out for a letter from France.
Oh, Chantal, Chantal, sure I love you still
Like I did in the time that's gone
Although you're going on eighty four
And I'm tipping a hundred and one.

I've outlived all my mates, and I've lost all my slates
And I'm back in the oxygen tent.
And my ozone holes are scoring own goals
In my pitch-black firmament.
There's more tears in my eyes than stars in the skies
I've lost contact with my lenses.
Ah but I'm sure I could get through a dark night with you
And recover my soul and my senses

So come all you middle-aged Irish nutters
And a warning take by me.
Beware when you go out to get scuttered
In your local hostelry.
Don't be a fool, stay up on your stool
Sit tight and drink yourself stupid
Give your number one to whiskey and rum
And don't waste your vote on Cupid!

And if by chance some goddess from France
With luminous short blond hair
Lights up your horizon - stick to your poison
In two simple words - Beware!
Make no overture, give no misguided tour
'Cause Diarmuid agus Grainne went wrong!
And after all your mileage, she'll leave you sitting in your silage
-Like Chantal de Champignon.

Oh now, although you're jarred, please disregard
The advice I gave you just then
Or you'll be stuck in first gear for a hundred years
Like a friggin' old farmyard hen.
For when all is said and done, I once flew near the sun
For one week I was a swan
I was on the wing and I learned to sing
With Chantal de Champignon

Oh, Chantal, Chantal, I hope you're still my pal
And don't think this song a blunder
For I adore far more than I did before
The ground you walk on - or maybe under
Oh don't take a dim view - if I'm laughing at you
What do you think I'm doing to me?
And please God and Saint Kevin, we'l recover in Heaven
Our petit coin du paradis.