Campsite at Drumcree IV

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Australian Immigration Authorities
Date: 07 Jun 02 - 09:29 AM

We'll take no more!
Time for Campsite at Drumcree V.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Erin Copeland, Professor of Cetacean endosco
Date: 07 Jun 02 - 05:24 AM

I wouldn't trust a word from thon Howard. Coastal surveillance is it? Whistlin' with the whales? Don't get me started. With his high-ends and his big-ends an' all he wouldn't know the difference between an endoscope and a periscope.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: alison
Date: 07 Jun 02 - 01:42 AM

so that's how it is, is it????.... you find a woman wi a wee bit of spirit in her... and she scares ye aff back til yer ma!!... what a waster!!!

yer not the man I thought ye were at all Isaac.... shure even DerryaddSam had more balls than you....... he was no quitter!!

now where did that nice Mr Whippy end up???????????

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,ozmacca
Date: 07 Jun 02 - 12:05 AM

.......And in a last minute addition to tonight's Australian National News, an announcement has been made by the Prime Minister, Mr Howard, that the navy has been alerted folowing reports from coastal surveillance sub-contractors in a balloon over the Indian Ocean that an unidentified vessel of undoubtedly foreign origin has been sighted, apparently headed int the general direction of Australia. Mr Howard has described it as highly probable that this could be another boatload of illegal immigrants and queue-jumpers who pose a significant terrorist threat to the law-abiding Australian people.

The friendly governments of Iraq, Iran and Iswam have been asked to provide temporary accomodation for any asylum seekers who make it through the ring of steel which is to be established by the Australian armed forces around our shores. Mr Ruddock, the Minister for eliminating Immigration has described this a humane act, intended to ensure that no unwanted starving, desperate foreign national may set foot on our soil, and have to be taken in to our detention centres. These have now been white-washed by the Commonwealth's special investigative body in response to the international demand for a fair and independent examination, but will not be ready to re-open until the paint dries.

The entire Australian military establishment has been placed on a high state of readiness and all leave has been cancelled. Both rowing boats are to set to sea immediately with orders to find the incoming vessel, which is reported to have been exchanging signals in an unbreakable code with other unidentified sources. It is reported that they have orders to stop and board the vessel.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Hrothgar
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 11:02 PM

A+ for dog paddling, McKittery.

B- for biology.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Roy Keane
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 04:31 PM

McKittery you're a feckin' wanker and a crap swimmer. Actually a good wank would probably kill yee...and fuck Mick McCarthy...instead of Alison. Good luck.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Big Tim
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 04:24 PM

Good stuff!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: MMario
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 02:26 PM

They don't call them hump-backs for nothin' now do they?

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: paddymac
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 01:44 PM

So, brudder Isaaaaaaaac, if a lady fair offers her honor ye'll not be honorin' her offer? If ye doan honor her offer ye'll not be on her and off a'tall, a'tall.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Peter Benchley
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 10:08 AM

"Doggy-paddle", is it, ye dorty article? Ye'll be havin' a go at yon hump-backed wheals next.

It'd answer ye better ta be sayin' yer prayers back at Drumcree.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 07:58 AM

Don't you be stamina-ing me, you Irish-talkin' intervener! A wee bit of a doggy-paddle from Larne till Adelaide is like a length o' Lurgan pool till me!

And don't "honour" me, boy! Isaac McKittery fears God and honours the King. And that's all the honourin' I'll be doin'.

I declare to God, I'm a glad man that I turned back for sweet Killicomaine!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: An Pluiméir Ceolmhar
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 07:33 AM

Damn. Now that I've got my very own cookie I don't know how to sign in as Peter Benchley.

Just wanted to suggest that Isaac has been jumping the shark all the time and won't have any stamina left in him to "honour" you by the time he reaches you, Alison.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: alison
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 05:08 AM

quit yer whingin' ye big jessie.... sure yer over half way here.....and anyways if ye go back now the boys'll take a quare hand out of ye fer not makin' it all the way......

and shure... what use have I fer a big horny viking when I've got a real man like yerself.... there's something about the sight of man in orange speedos that fair gets the juices goin'.....(did you remember yer white gloves???)..... c'mon and I'll take yer mind off the jellyfish stings.... providing the sharks haven't got you by then......

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 03:56 AM

Now you jist houl' yer tongue, there, Alison!

Here's me, the flesh roasted aff me and hardly a day in the past few months that I haven't been leavin' a wake behin' me in my haste to get till th'oul' Austrailyee.

And what am I goanny git for my efforts? A tongue-lashin'? Away o' that! Isaac McKittery's never took a bargin' from man, woman or baste. So, I'll tell you what till do, love. Why don't you link up with thon Viking boy you're slaggin' me aff in front o'? Wi' his big horny helmet. And his sheepskin trousers. And you can plait your hair in pigtails and ate candles till your heart's content!

An' there's me after thinkin' you were the quare girl that wud suit a true blue!

Ah, sweet Portydown, where the gentle Bann flows,
Your leavin' I greatly rue
But home I will swim, with vigour and vim
Drumcree once again to view!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: alison
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 12:51 AM

that's for me to know and him to find out.......... lol

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Hrothgar
Date: 06 Jun 02 - 12:06 AM

Which half has to be decent, Alison?

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: alison
Date: 05 Jun 02 - 09:33 PM

aw fer gawd's sake...... if ye didn't blether so much ye'd go a lot faster....... yer gob is open so much yer swallyin' water......
if ye don't get yer arse in gear quare'n quick I'm goin' te take meself down the pub see if I can pull some half dacent Ozzie fella......

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 05 Jun 02 - 07:56 AM

An' anawr thing!

You can gi' me an F minus for jography if ye like, but I can tel you the difference atween The Birches and The Moy any day of the week! An atween The Boyne and The Shannon jist from the taste o'it! And atween The Liffey and The Lagan jist from the smell o' it!

So don't you go dishin' out the marks for th'oul' jography when you wouldn't know The Falls from the Niagry Falls or Shillington's Bridge from Sydney Harbour!

Keep 'er country, boy!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 04 Jun 02 - 04:42 PM

If wasn't for the fact that I'm up to my oxters in jellyfish, I'd rare up so I wud!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Hrothgar
Date: 01 Jun 02 - 11:45 PM

McKittery, Isaac:

B+ for song writing.

F- for geography and navigation.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 31 May 02 - 05:03 PM

Ye may quit lookin' at the watch, darlin'!

The wea'er's quare'n bad aff the Capey Good Hope at the minute. So I'm holin' up for a wee bit with the staunch Boers. Good oul' Dutch stock, much like our Good King Bill!

An' man dear ... haven't they the great ideas about keepin' th'oul tribes apart! If we had a few o' them yokes in charge in Storemount, there'd be better crack altogether!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: alison
Date: 30 May 02 - 09:36 PM

....looking nervously at her watch .......

thon big hunk McKittery must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.... shurely it can't take this long 'til get here.....

I'm quarin' lonely since thon nice Mr Whippy went away.... him an his artic rolls kep' me goin' fer a brave wee while....

mind yew Isaac still sends me luvly wee songs .... I jist wish he'd swim faster.... maybe I should hoist a red haun' down the docks so he can see where to head for.......

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,O'Farrell's Wlcome To
Date: 30 May 02 - 07:38 AM

Standing guard on the good ship "Libido"
I nervouly eyed a torpedo
Says my mate, "Don't be jittery;
It's Isacc McKittery
Swimmin' by in his union jack speedos"

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Isaac McKittery
Date: 30 May 02 - 07:08 AM

Man dear, but this oul' swimmin' can be a right lonely business! I was thinkin' th'awr night of a wee song to help pass the time. An' heavens above! If I didn't come up wi' this wee number!

There was a wile colonial prod, McKittery was his name
He was born and reared in Ulster, in a place called Killicomaine
He loves the orange, hates the green, in marches oft he's trod
And sorely do his brethren miss, the wile colonial prod

At the age of forty-seven years, he set out from Drumcree
To swim to far Australia, across the briny sea
For he'd fallen for a fair one, and he swore t'Almighty God
That she would get a good look-see at the wile colonial prod

It was off Larne pier one fine spring morn, into the waves he div
Not one care for his safety did brave McKittery give
He struck out with such vigour, he was like a human cod
We raised a cheer and downed a beer for the wile colonial prod

While down by bonny Biscay-o, the weather blew up rough
Other - aye, and tamer! - men, might well have had enough
But the noble sons of Ulster honour sovereigns and fear God
And a howlin' gale would not prevail with the wile colonial prod

And passing by Gibral-a-tar, McKittery raised a fist
And swore to help defend the boys, who on that rock, persist
To claim the right to government by Liz to whom they nod
And tug their loyal forelocks like the wile colonial prod

And down the coast of Africky, he floated and he swum
And up above was beaming down the equatorial sun
"Each day is like the glorious 12th" mused Isaac as he trod
Water off Nigeria – the wile colonial prod

The story isn't over yet, it's barely halfway through
For that valiant son of Orange, in his trunks red, white and blue
Has many miles to swim till up some foreign beach he'll plod
And then Ali can get pally with her wile colonial prod.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Consumer Complaint
Date: 23 May 02 - 03:29 AM

Dear prodshopper.com

I tried some of the orange juice as advertised in your estimable organ.

I want my money back.

It was awful bitter!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Diarmuid MacMurrough
Date: 22 May 02 - 08:03 AM

If yez had only but known that Ireland would rare boys the like o' Diarmuid Gavin and Eamonn Holmes, maybe yez woudn't ha' bin so hard on me in the past!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Frankie Gavin
Date: 22 May 02 - 08:00 AM

I'd just like it to be placed on record that I am no relation to Diarmuid Gavin.

There is a slight resemblance in the tonsorial department, but that's where any similarity ends.

Besides which he's pilin' on the beef now that he's never aff the telly. If he's not careful he'll blow up like a poisoned pup, much like Eamonn Holmes.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Diarmuid Gavin
Date: 22 May 02 - 07:55 AM

Fibula ...

There's many's the blade's fell for the twinkle in my eye, the burr in my voice and rugged good looks to me! But, to the matter in hand!

Thon Protestant Holy Water ... I poured a wee drap on my collection of thistles. One half of them riz like Lazarus; the awr half cowped in a hape!

What's that about, eh?

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Fibula Mattock
Date: 22 May 02 - 07:48 AM

Och, Diarmuid, d'ye know I have a wee picture of you up on me noticeboard. I always did have a thing about them woolly-jumper, big-boot wearin' Irish Sons of the Soil.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Diarmuid Gavin
Date: 22 May 02 - 07:44 AM

Me again!

Houl' fire on thon oul' Protestant Holy Water, boys!

I gave my bed of shamrock a good oul' dose and it shrivelled up in seconds.

Where do I get a refund?

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Diarmuid Gavin
Date: 22 May 02 - 07:41 AM

Jaysus! That Protestant Holy Water stuff is only bloody marvellous. I put a drop in my waterin' can and gave my Orange Lilies a good sprinklin'. They shot up like leeks! I'm orderin' it by the gallon!

Cheers ... Diarmuid

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: ard mhacha
Date: 22 May 02 - 07:23 AM

Fibula, What a great Site, I have one of those Orange Juicers and it bates the Classic stuff rotten, nearly as good as the Buckie. Ard Mhacha.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: Fibula Mattock
Date: 22 May 02 - 06:40 AM

Now available on the XBox:
Drumcree game

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,fiosrach
Date: 18 May 02 - 04:13 PM

Did Queen Liz snub Drumcree on her recent Jubilee visit to N Ireland? I thought I would have seen a message from her here.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,- of De Auld School...
Date: 18 May 02 - 03:52 PM

Arrr, away wid ye!

Dere's nin ev yez is a patch on The Milligan, for da pomes...

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,James Joyce
Date: 17 May 02 - 04:43 PM

Heaney …

Sit down for Gawd's sake and watch how it's done

You've heard of oul' Eamonn the guzzler
He's beyond, he's calling the bingo
He's dressed in a suit
But I'd give him the boot
For I can't have the craytur at all,
Line up by the wall,
Powder and ball,
Watch the boy fall

He once was a bit of a heart-throb
He once had his pick of the Ashburn
But now that he's stout
And his charm has run out
He's lost for a bit of a coort
A blade in a skirt
A bit of flirt
A rowl in the dirt

He's never out of Cafolla's
He orders chips seven times over
And sugary tay
Five gallons a day
And Baileys when out on the town
He's drinkin' them down
They pile on the poun's
A tenner a roun'

It's a pity he wasn't more humble
Cos soon he will take an oul' tumble
He's getting' too big
Too much like a pig
To last any more on TV
They like their folks wee
Like wee Tommy P
A poet like me!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Séamus Heaney
Date: 17 May 02 - 04:42 PM

Paulin …

What a big, stinkin' hape of horse-shite!

Thon wudn't pass muster, at all, at all!

I've been spen'in' a quare bit o' time lately translating th'oul' Sweeney lyrics an' I reckon thon's as good as poetry gets. So, here, in Sweeney-style, I'll gi'e you a wee hawn till think wi' this one!

Big is the ass to him
Nine-times big and big again
Bigger than the Gap of Dungloe
Softer than the Bog of Allen

Greedy is the gub on him
Greedy for eatin' the diet of lords
The hairy bacon of Galtee
The gold butter of Kerry

Tight is the shiny suit on him
Tighter, in sowl, than the hangman's noose
That choked the life
From our glorious dead

Shiny is the tight suit on him
Shinier, in faith, than the seldom-seen sun
Whose miserable warmth
Keeps us this side of freezin'

Dulcet his tones
Sweeter than the breath of the maiden Emer
That teases the neck
Of Cuchulllain the brave

Slimy his ways
Slimier than the spawn of frogs
That gather in spring
In St. Brigid's Well

Vain is he
Vainer indeed than the dancer Flatley
(Whose vanity
Is a riddle, alright!)

Great is his girth
Girthsome indeed, aye nine times girthsome
More girthsome by far
Than the drummer Gino

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Tom Paulin
Date: 17 May 02 - 09:28 AM

Now me name it is Tom Paulin, poet great, poet great
Now me name it is Tom Paulin, poet great
Now me name it is Tom Paulin
On the Late Review I'm hollerin'
Cos the Arts are quite appallin', 'cept for me, I'm the best
Cos the Arts are quite appallin', 'cept for me

Now it works on a number of levels, so I said, so I said
Now it works on a number of levels, so I said
Now it works on a number of levels
And contains a lot of symbols
Oh the smart must help the thick, so must I, so must I
Oh the smart must help the thick, so must I, so must I


Now I killed a man they said, so they said, so they said
Now I killed a man they said, so they said
Now I killed a man they said
For his ears had fairly bled
I burnt them out, talkin' shite
For his ears had fairly bled, I burnt them out


Ah they put me on TV, Late Review, Late Review
Ah they put me on TV, Late Review
Ah they put me on TV,
That's one up on oul' Heaney
Now I'm paid for talkin' shite, so I am, so I am
Now I'm paid for talkin' shite, so I am


Now Germaine I tried to grope, that's no joke, that's no joke
Now Germaine I tried to grope, that's no joke
Now Germaine I tried to grope
But I hadn't got a hope
So ne'er a word I spoke to oul' Ms Greer, oul Ms Greer,
So ne'er a word I spoke to oul' Ms Greer


Now me name it is Tom Paulin, poet great, poet great
Now me name it is Tom Paulin, poet great
Now me name it is Tom Paulin
On the Late Review I'm hollerin'
Cos the Arts are quite appallin', 'cept for me, I'm the best
Cos the Arts are quite appallin', 'cept for me

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Tom Paulin's latest pome
Date: 17 May 02 - 09:04 AM

THE BALLAD OF EAMONN THE BLOATED

In a mean abode on Garvaghy Road
Lived a man so fat and bloated
He had a belly so soft like jelly
And it grew as he got promoted
So one day at dawn with his nightshirt on
His breakfast plate he looted

As quick as a flash he ate up his hash
Browns, and atein' was never so quick
But the drip drip drip that fell from his lip
Of the brown sauce would make ye sick
And the pool of grease that never did cease
Grew clotted and cold and thick


And yet he was glad he'd done what he had
When he'd eaten a few good doses
But a sudden awe of the sausages raw
Struck his heart like atherosclerosis
So to finish the food that tasted so good
He resolved that he'd fry and toast


He took the mate from off o' the plate
And twisted it into the pan
And he fried it himself by the pantry shelf
A breakfast fit for a man
In the face of food with a mouthful good
He solmenly guzzled it down


But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is to become our motto
His fame got bigger with his popular figure
And the increasing size of his torso
For atein' well won't end in hell
It'll get ye a job on the Lotto

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Len Graham
Date: 17 May 02 - 08:29 AM

I've just come across this wee song on my travels. It's to the same tune as "Skibereen". I hope you like it, now!

Oh father dear, I often hear you slag off Eamonn Holmes
His awesome size, his wobbly thighs, his super-padded bones
They say he calls the bingo in a land beyond the sea
Oh why do you detest him so, the answer give to me

Oh son I loved oul' Eamonn Holmes, like a brother true of mine
We loved to drink and sport and play, but mostly loved to dine
Until a pretty female came between my frien' an' me
An' till this day, I cannot say the name of Kit Magee

(But you jist did, da!

Shut up, wud ye?!)

Kit was neat from head till feet and tidy as a pin
The day that I set eyes on her, her heart I tried to win
But she was fond of blubbery men and I am medium-sized
And to my friend she did extend the gift of her long thighs

Oh Eamonn, friend, do not offend me, do not coort with Kit
With my sad plea, he didn't agree and treated me like shit
Before my face, in Market Place, he kissed her up the wall
Sez I "You shite! If I could fight, I'd kick you in the balls."

But I was not a fightin' man and feeble was my frame
And Eamonn Holmes called me "skin'n'bones" and other hurtful names
But I resolved to nevermore be jowly Eamonn's friend
And on that day, I'm sad to say, our comradeship did end

Oh father dear the time the time will come when on vengeance we will call
And I will coort his son's main squeeze against the Peters' wall
I'll grow in size with big huge thighs, I'll pad out every bone
And loud and high I'll raise a cry "Revenge on Eamonn Holmes"

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Paul Brady
Date: 17 May 02 - 07:54 AM

Thon new bit o' singin' I've just done with Altan has re-invigorated me. I've just come up with a re-working of thon oul' favourite o' mine, "Arthur McBride", but I've changed it roun' till it refers to the big-assed bingo-caller from Lurgan.

Me and my cousin, one Mickey O'Loan
Met up in Cafolla's with the boul' Eamonn Holmes
A male in a café beats one made at home
At least that's the gist of the theory
We got a wee sate near the back of the place
The slabbers was drippin' aff Eamonn's oul face
The air it was thick with the sweet smell of gr'ase
And it made us feel pleasant and cheery

"What 're yez havin'?" the waitress then said
"Fish suppers all roun', love. An' slices o' bread.
An' big mugs o' tay." We're always well-fed,
An' daycent an' hale an' contented
Well, up came the grub, it was graisy as hell
Yer mawn near combusted when he caught a smell
Wi' heez knife and heez fork he was goin' pell-mell
Like an eatin' machine was invented!

Well he let out a rift when he'd cleaned heez oul' plate
He sez "Jayziz, boys, thon oul' feedin' wuz great.
I'm the mawn that is fon' o' a good drap o' mate
An' thon wuz far better than nothin'!
But nice as it wuz, I have to confess
That the size o' the portions don't suit me the best
For I have a stummick inside my oul' vest
That takes a right bit o' stuffin'"

So up came the waitress and Holmes, he said "Miss,
There's many's the boys who would ask for a kiss
But all I want aff you is a big lump o' fish
Deep-fried in the crispiest batter
And a big scoop o' chips, piled up in a moun'
An' I don't give a damn if the cost is ten poun's
For the money I'm earnin' would surely astoun'
So a note here or there disn't matter!"

So up then came seconds, and later came thirds
Sez Eamonn "Sure, Jayziz I ate like a bird
For they ate twice their weight every day, so I've heard"
And then it was back to the feedin'
For slabbers and gravy you'd scarce see his face
His oul' double chin was covered in gr'ase
He's the talk o' everyone in the place
A kick up the hole's what he's needin'

And then at the ice-cream when the suppers were done
Oysters an' nougats and 99 cones
The waitresses working themselves to the bone
To keep the boul' Eamon in rations
Pineapple minerals he drank by the score
And oul' sarsaparilla, raspberry and more
A gallon o' coffee when the 'ating was o'er
"Ah, Jayziz, boys, thon was fair smashin'!"

Then homeward he waddled till watch the TV
"I hope there's a programme on, featurin' me"
He thought as he sproghalled on his oul' settee
Which groaned cos oul' Eamonn was bulky
But all that was on was oul' Portydown Glo
And Paulin the poet, on the Late Review show
"There's damn all worth watchin'. To bed I will go."
Sez Eamonn all tearful and sulky ….

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Coyote Breath
Date: 16 May 02 - 02:17 PM

arrgh! I go travellin' for a couple a weeks and ya start in agin and I miss all the fun!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Christy Moore
Date: 16 May 02 - 12:45 PM

Don't forget your boat when you go sailin' on Lough Neagh
Remember the punjana when you make a cup o' tay
Better get a move-on else you'll cause us a delay
Fal-de-deedle-do

Gino is substantial, he is meaty and he's plump
But he's not a bit like Eamonn Holmes, the lazy bloody lump
Who looks like he's inflated with a giant bicycle pump
Fal-de-deedle-do

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Tom Paulin
Date: 13 May 02 - 07:59 AM

Jayziz, Christy. But thon's poetry, boy! I'll git y'invited on till The Late Review yet!

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Christy Moore
Date: 13 May 02 - 07:56 AM

Don't forget the puddin' if you cook for Eamonn Holmes
He wuz roun' our house last Sunday; ate us out of house and home
I caught him on heez han's and knees, eatin' the dog's bone
Fal-de-deedle-do

We had nettle champ for dinner, with butter in the hole
We settled down to afters, a big oul' Arctic Roll
He ast if there wuz seconds and he ate a dozen bowls
Fal-de-deedle-do

Don't forget the freshener when Eamonn hits the loo
If he ates just leck a pig, then he smells just like one too
He's upstairs with the Sunday World, he's at the Number Two
Fal-de-deedle-do

It came aroun' till three o'clock, sez I "We'll have a squib"
Well he dribbled like a chil', I shud huv give the man a bib
"Any chance there of a bikkie? There's nothing roun' my ribs!"
Fal-de-deedle-do

He ate a plate o' Wagon Wheels, some Kimberleys as well
A stack of buttered Maries came, and on them Eamonn fell
The state o' the place wi' bikkie crumbs, I hardly dare to tell
Fal-de-deedle-do

And then he lifted up a hip and made an awful roar
The gases that did then ensue, t'was at my throat they tore
It was like the soldiers' trenches in the 1914 war
Fal-de-deedle-do

Don't forget the shovel if you dine with Eamonn Holmes
For sweetenin' his Punjana, then clearin' out the toilet bowl
If he blitters fit to choke you, send the bingo-caller home
Fal-de-deedle-do

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Christy Moore
Date: 10 May 02 - 08:34 AM

Ah, Jayziz … yous huv jist caught me writin' a new song!

Let's see (strums a chord) …

Don't forget yer bowler if ye walk through Portydown
Don't forget yer brolly, case the rain is pishin' down
When ye see a fenian gern yer gub and wear a frown
Dal-de-deedle-do

(Mutters till heesself.) No, no … that's not right! Let's see (strums a chord)

Don't forget yer buckfast if you're marchin' on the twelfth
And give us a wee sloat, there, b'y … don't keep it till yerself
They say that it's a tonic, buy it's runin' me health
Dal-de-deedle-do

(Mutters away like an eejit.) Not at all, Christy. Let's see (strums a chord)

I never met a man who ate more grub than Eamonn Holmes
I never met a man could bate Tom Paulin at the pomes
And poor oul' Paud Moloney gets mistaken for a gnome
Dal-de-deedle-do

Now we're cookin'! (Strums another chord)

I never met a man before more reprobate than Shane
In seen him once devour some stuff I use for clearin' drains
An' it didn't bloody fizz on him, he roared out "Same again!"
Dal-de-deedle-do

And Barney's face is hairier than Father Ted's backside
And Dan O'Donnell's singin' is a thing I can't abide
And thon girls out of the Corrs, I'd like to give them all a … han' with their careers, ye dorty-minded pack o' hoor's melts! What did you think I wuz goin' till sing?
Dal-de-deedle-do

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Kathy Jordan and Sharon Shannon
Date: 10 May 02 - 07:41 AM

SS : How's she cuttin', there?

KJ : Rightly, Shaz. Yourself?

SS : Middlin' till raysinable!

KJ : You cud be worse, then! Would like a suck on a wee Lambeg? (Offers SS a Sweet Afton.)

SS : I'd ate the sufferin' hawn aff ye fer wan o' them yokes! (Lights up. Deep drag. Breathes two furious plumes of smoke from out her delicate wee nostrils.)

KJ : Y'up tomuch music-wise, lately?

SS : Divil the bit! The odd TV theme tune but fock all o' any use to man or baist. Yourself?

KJ : Still howlin' an' batterin' the oul' bodhrán and leppin' roun' the stage like a demented eejit. But here, d'ye know what it is?

SS : What?

KJ : It's very weird, Shaz. But I've got this mad hankerin' for a beard! I don't think I'l ever be right less I get a big hairy gub on me! (Takes a huge drag on her feg!) What's thon all about, eh?

SS : I think you've fell for a bit of dubliminal advertising, meself!

FADE TO BLACK

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Irish Mary
Date: 09 May 02 - 08:34 PM

Och is it yerself missus. Och come on in luv. Watch that ould rug for its a death trap...it could put ye through the bannisters there if ye caught the right corner aff it.

Ye haven't the wee bit of a feg on ye do ye luv. Am chokin' here. A haven't been down to the shap yet for the messages.(takes cigarette, lights and inhales deeply...has a body convulsing coughing fit)

These feckin' things'll be the death a me. Sure they have me kilt with the lambego.

Did ye hear the Pope on the wireless. A lovely wee man...a lovely wee man. Aye God love him but doesn't he have a fierce time aff it way some a them boys thats not priests atall, not priests atall. Sure some a them boys needs the red hot poker heh.

Anyway luv I was kilt with an ould turn there last week. A didn't know which end a me till point at the boul. Couldn't keep a thing in me...not even a man (laughs hysterically).

That's wile craic wha...hear shut that door luv ye know what their like round here. Come on an a'll put the kettle on.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,The Pope
Date: 09 May 02 - 08:19 PM

Settle yerselves there settle yerselves. There's bad craic goin' round now bout the clargy and I don't want yews people to be payin' it iny heed. Do yiz hear. Now when we get the perscriptions all made up now for the bodhrans it'll be keepin' peoples heads all aff the how's yer father...are yiz wime. Cause lets face it there's no feckin' rythmn in this country, know. Here Guido hand me that bottle will ye son. Ahh that's grand so it is. Nothin' like the Paddy tay slack the bladder wha? Where was a...aye up the Glens.

Subject: RE: Campsite at Drumcree IV
From: GUEST,Bill Whelan and Davy Spillane
Date: 09 May 02 - 04:34 PM

BW : Davy, y'oul bollix! How're ye hangin'?

DS : To the knees, Bill, as ever!

BW : Y'are, so! Jayz, but thon's a great headband you've on you!

DS : Thanks there, Bill. I always like to throw a bit of drapery roun' the head. I feel naked w'out an oul' duster, or a piece of curtain or a clipe o' me ma's apron, or something wrapped roun' th'oul' napper!

BW : Well, whatever. Suits you till a T, so it does! Here, d'ye fancy a wee child's leg? (Offers a cigarette.)

DS : Don't mind if I do, there!

BW : Y'up till anything music-wise, there?

DS : Funny enough, I'm jist puttin' the finishin' touches till an oul' concept thing.

BW : G'way! What's the crack?

DS : It's an attempt to set oul Englishy, Saxon-like folk-tales till Irish rebel music.

BW : God alive! Thon sounds great! You're the powerful man for the concepts, Davy!

DS : I've a great band working with me on it.

BW : What are they called?

DS : The Beowulf Tones. (Takes deep drag on child's leg ...) Y'up till anything much yourself?

BW : I've a wee project I was working on.

DS : Aye?

BW : I was goin' to get 4 Men And A Dog back together again ... on ice!

DS : On ice?

BW : Aye! But you know me, Davy. Always one for the big spectacle, so I wanted to get the numbers up. So I was working on the 104 Men And A Dog concept!

DS : Jayz!

BW : Well 3 ordinary-sized men, a dog and 101 Ginos to be precise! But could I get ice thick enough till houl' them?

DS : Did you try?

BW : I did in sowl! Why do you think thon ice shelf broke away in th'Antarctic?

DS : G'way!

BW : They all got a wee bit excited at the start of The Kilfenora Jig and stompin' and leppin' about ... next thing they're floatin' up the Gulf Stream t'wards Inisheer!

Voice From The Shadows : Did you find anybody to play the dog?

BW : Who's that?

VFTS : Never mind! Just answer the fockin' question!

BW : Well, no as it happens! Had you anybody in mind?

VFTS reveals itself to be Michael Flatley : Aye ... thon flat-footed harpie Jean Butler!

FADE TO BLACK