Waxies' Dargle - The Pint Thieves

Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan "Will ye go to the Waxies dargle?" Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan "I haven't got a farthing I went up to Monto town to see Uncle McArdle But he wouldn't give me a half a crown For to go to the Waxies dargle" What will ya have? I'll have a pint! I'll have a pint with you, sir! And if one of ya' doesn't order soon We'll be chucked out of the boozer! Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan "Will ye go to the Galway races?" Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan "I'll hawk me aul' man's braces I went up to Capel Street to the Jewish moneylenders But he wouldn't give me a couple of bob For the aul' man's red suspenders" What will ya have? I'll have a pint! I'll have a pint with you, sir! And if one of ya' doesn't order soon We'll be chucked out of the boozer! Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan "We got no beef or mutton If we went up to Monto town We might get a drink for nuttin'" Here's a nice piece of advice I got from an aul' fishmonger "When food is scarce and you see the hearse You'll know you have died of hunger" What will ya have? I'll have a pint! I'll have a pint with you, sir! And if one of ya' doesn't order soon We'll be chucked out of the boozer! What will ya have? I'll have a pint! I'll have a pint with you, sir! And if one of ya' doesn't order soon We'll be chucked out of the boozer!

I had a prodigal son, Mathew was his name He went to war on a foreign shore Lost his legs, and was never the same He used to lay the bricks, now he lays a'bed Strong arms strong back, they won't come back Brand new boots, unused til he's dead My second son named Mark, he had such clear green eyes From Sunday Mass, to Mustard Gas Coughing fits, until he dies Blood flecks his lips, wracked by choking cough Loses his breath, and waits for death Mark my son, your life is lost Luke, my tallest son, he answered his Captain's call He sailed away, from Galway Bay And lost a race with a cannon ball It took him in the chest, and opened up his life He fell to the deck, his body a wreck His empty bed, and his lonely wife The fate of my son John, the youngest son of mine Just like the rest, he gave his best The King calls war, hour glass runs dry And now I sit alone, and gaze at the lonely shore My heart is bent, my sons are spent Alas my children, the sons of war.