IF Dylan were Irish, he'd be still a protestor,
And he'd ne'er have an agent or an income investor,
He wouldn't be rich, like he got out from Boise
And he might sing things better, and for sure he'd be noisy!

Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Bob Brennan, the daisy,
Just drinking good craithur, and being quite lazy,
The bold Irish poet, Bob Brennan the daisy.

He would sing in Kilkenny, and, despite his hard thinking
He'd have bloody few fans, and his revenue sinking,
Though they'd not be so unkind as to have finally banned him,
They'd shun all his records, who could not understand them!

Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Bob Brennan, the daisy,
Just drinking good craithur, and being quite lazy,
The bold Irish poet, Bob Brennan the daisy.

He'd be gaunt, he'd be skinny, and his face would be boney
He'd have no affaire with that belle dame, young Joanie
He'd have no motorcycles, nor groupies eclectic,
And he'd never have thought, sir, of going electric!

Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Bob Brennan, the daisy,
Just drinking good craithur, and being quite lazy,
The bold Irish poet, Bob Brennan the daisy.

And now, with years, deeply on his mug showin'
It's out to the streets auld Bob would be goin'
His gravel truck singing, all the shops to be fillin'
In hopes that somebody would toss him a shilling.

Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Bob Brennan, the daisy,
Just drinking good craithur, and being quite lazy,
The bold Irish minstel, Bob Brennan the daisy.