'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.