Have you seen the old man, The drunken ould lout, Roaring and bawling and spilling his stout? And in everyone's business, You'll first see his snout. Down in Cork he'd be known as a langer, A langer (a langer), In Cork he'd be known as a langer.
And our hero Roy Keane, Footballer supreme, The finest this country and Man U's ever seen; And we'd have won the World Cup, But Mick McCarthy fouled up. Roy was dead right to call him a langer! A langer (a langer), Roy was dead right to call him a langer!
And Johnny and Mick Have a Honda Civic With spotlamps and spiders And loud rock music. Ah, but don't they look nice With the big furry dice? Would they ever stop acting the langer? The langer (the langer), Would they ever stop acting the langer?
Féach an phleice amach romhainn, [Look at the messer in front of us,] ag bladairt trína thóin. [talking through his ass,] Níl gaelinn ag éine, [Nobody can speak Irish,] dár leis, ach é féin. [in his opinion, but himself.] Tá aige fomhraíocht sár-bhinn, [He's got perfect pronunciation,] 's gramadach fíor chrinn. [and perfectly accurate grammar.] I gCorcaigh, gan dabht, sé an langer! [In Cork, without a doubt, he's a langer.] An langer! An langer! I gCorcaigh, gan dabht, sé an langer!
From Mitchelstown to Cape Clear, You'll be welcome down here, For there's plenty of scenery, music, and beer; But avoid the rugby weekend in Kinsale, For every year with out fail, The town gets infested with langers. With langers (with langers), The whole town's infested with langers.
[This verse done in a posh Montenotte accent:] In two thousand and five, Culture will thrive All along the green banks of the Lee; (SHOUTED: Oh, good man, George!) But no matter what, If you arrive on a yacht, We'll tolerate absolutely nobody acting the langer. (SHOUTED: Certainly not in Crosshaven!) Langer (langer), There'll be nobody acting the langer.
George Bush and his boys, Ah, did make your blood boil. Will they give the Iraqi people back their soil? Ah, and all of us know All he wants is their oil. Oh Lord, he's a ferocious langer! A langer (a langer), Oh Lord, he's a ferocious langer!
So three cheers for Roy Keane! He's back wearing the green. Ah, what more could you ask him to do? So forget all the press And the whole bloody mess. They're only a big shower o' langers. Langers (langers), They're only a big shower of langers.
So there was me song. I didn't keep ye too long, For now ye all know one word of Cork slang; And while there's meat on me bones, I hope I'll never be known As a typical home-grown Cork langer.