Well...there's always this pub-classic. Sadly, it came out rather tame; but here it is, after a trip through the Alsace-Lorraine...

I to have the Rover savage for much the year
To play and I to have my entirety money for Whisky to spend and beer,
Now, which I with gold in large report to turn over
And I never to play the Rover savage more
And that No, nay, never
No nay never more
Play will I the Rover savage
No never more

Better yet:

I am right a poor boy and my history am seldom declared
That I want to say resistance pocketful of Mumbles, then are promises wasted:
All to find and of Jest, nor to hear a man, which it to intend to want and to neglect the remainder,

When I my house and my family to leave, I more, when to come a boy
In the company that from abroad
In the rest of the station, which scared to put to run
To leave weak, the bad quarter to choose, where the zackigen the person,
To go after the place only to seek

They to ask it that wages of the worker to know around, I, after an employment to seek, but I to receive any offer
Right A kommen-auf Dirnen on 7. Allee,

Which I to explain, to give time, when I, therefore only and to the house, Where New York the urban winters do not purge me
And acted to go to the house

In Reinigungstandplaetze a Boxer, and a combatant carries by his trade
And him them advertisements
Of each glove which put it to the bottom
Or it it cried outside, in its anger and his dishonour,
"That I leave, I leave" crossed,
However the combatant Remains still

Hee!

Slán,

~Fionn

www.geocities.com/children_of_lir