'Twas in the year of 'thirty-nine when the sky was full of lead When Hitler was heading for Poland, and Paddy for Holyhead Come all you pincher laddies and you long-distance men Don't ever work for McAlpine, for Wimpey, or John Laing You'll stand behind a mixer until your skin is turned to tan And they'll say, Good on you, Paddy, with your boat fare in your hand Oh, the craic was good in Cricklewood and they wouldn't leave the Crown With glasses flying and Biddys crying 'cause Paddy was going to town MMMMMMMmmm I see Paddy is used here several times, where are the P.C. Police when you need them.
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