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(Pete St. John)

I knew Danny Farrell when his football was a can
With his hand-me-downs and worriors and his sandwiches of bran
But now that pavement peasant is a full grown bitter man
With all the trials and troubles of his travelling evil's clan

cho: He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people please hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gorier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man

I knew Danny Farrell when he joined the national school
He was lousy and a Gaelic, they'd call him (Armerdon) the fool
He was brilliant in the task school by training objects in the pawn
By the time he was an adult all his charming ways had gone

I knew Danny Farrell when we queued up for the dole
And he tried to hide the loss of pride that eats away the soul
But mending pots and kettles is a trade lost in the past
"There's no hand-out here for takers" was the answer when he asked

Oh, I still know Danny Farrell, saw him just there yesterday
Taking (methelated) spirits with some wino's on the cay
Oh, he's forty going on eighty, with his eyes of hope bereft
And he told me this for certain, there's not many of us left

Remarks: Written by Pete St. John, this version as adapted by
The Dubliners.
Copyright (c) by Red Dwarf Music.
filename[ DANFARRL

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