Plastic Paddy
A Plastic Paddy is, in most cases, a descendant from Irish emigrants. Sometimes however this pet name is also used for folks pretending to be Irish. Both categories are often Irish in a way the Irish were in the nineteenth century.

The first category, the Irish descendants, are often genuine surprised when they find out that Dublin is a real metropolis, including broadband internet access. We have once witnessed the impact of this reality check when an Irish-American joined a couple of musicians. Notwithstanding the fact that he was an excellent violist, he was literally just out of tune in the ensemble. He realised that his way of experiencing and performing Irish music had not been evolved since his ancestors has left Ireland. It would be an overstatement to say that he experienced a nervous breakdown, but disappointment was written all over his face.

The would-be Irish on the other hand are in general just off target. A notice with the text In God we trust, others pay cash, for example, fits somehow perfectly well in a pub in Ireland, but in an Irish pub in the Netherlands it just don't make sense.


Plastic Paddy
Title:
Plastic Paddy
Lyrics by:
Eric Bogle
No recordings known
Category:
Humour and Sarcasm
All song rights and copyrights belong to the respective authors and/or composers and this material might be copyrighted. Inform us if your rights are violated

He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
There's plastic shamrocks on the walls, there's Guinness and green beer
And a sign in Gaelic above the bar which says "God Bless All Here!"

His guitar sounds like a wardrobe, and it's out of tune at that
His singing voice it ranges from F-sharp to F-flat
He's just desecrated "The Holy Ground", ripped apart "Black Velvet Band"
Sang, "Seven Nights Drunk" and now he's sunk "The Irish Rover" with all hands
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
The publican's a Proddy Scot by the name of McIntyre
Who does not allow collections for "The Men Behind The Wire"

He's done awful things to "Molly Malone" and the fair "Rose Of Tralee"
He's murdered "Carrickfergus" and poor old "Mother McCree"
He's thrashed his way through "Galway Bay" and "The Wild Irish Rose"
And if he starts singing "Danny Boy" I'm gonna punch him in the nose
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
There's Aer Lingus poster everywhere showing pretty Irish scenes
All peaceful and idyllic, and very bloody green

"When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" and "The Mountains of Mourne"
In his search for Celtic cliché your has left no stone unturned
Till he embarks upon "The Harp Once Through Tara's Halls"
Accompanying himself of the bodhran which takes a lot of balls
He's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
In a plastic paddy pub that's called "The Blarney Stone"
He's just sung in his mother tongue, the ancient Irish Erse
And cleared the pub completely by the forty-second verse

Yes he's just a plastic paddy, singing plastic paddy songs
He's started singing "Danny Boy" so it's time that I was gone
And just one thought comes to my mind as I stagger out the door
Where are you when we need your Christy Moore
Where are you when we need your Christy Moore



So folks know what the shootin's about. I found it on the www. Don't know anything about it other than that. If lyris are wrong or any of the info--my apologies.

Hope this doesn't start the 'troubles' all over again.