Drive-by’s in LA,
Drive-by’s in New York.
I can’t fucking believe,
Rebel county drive-by’s in Cork.

Bulletproof vest’s,
Gangsters driving quick.
For some reason,
Drive-by’s in Limerick.

But surely the midlands can afford some similar fun,
Glock automatics, the occasional hit and run?

Would it be such a chore? Are we really that fucking poor?,
Why can’t we afford a drive-by in south-central Tullamore?

Standing to attention, eyes looking around,
Ears pricked up, listening for sound.
At any stage, getting ready to run,
Not trusted with bullets for your gun.
Nation is satisfied and the uniform shows,
We don’t want you to blow off all your toes.
Suppose its cool, you look fairly hard,
Beats the fuck out of being a guard.
But rumors are flying, and maybe you’ve heard,
When your on tour, other guys are shagging your bird.
Though if it really lifts off, you can kick back and snore,
You signed up for neutrality, not the possibility of war.

Long gone the halcyon days of the building boom bender,
And the South American cartel and the money we would send her.
Politicians, doctors, and over paid bankers,
From council houses to the Foxrock wankers.
Ireland was a blizzard of Peruvian snow,
And with each eight ball bought, the ego it did grow.
Rich we were back then, and now we are broke,
Only the select few can now afford a nose full of coke

Life wouldn’t be a slog,
If I could only be a dog.
Forget the austerity farce,
All I need is to smell dogs arse.
Tongue out running down the path,
Admiring mounds of shit I shat.
Up a tree the cat it calls,
I sit down and lick my balls.

How dearly we miss both your shape and your size,
Cannot blame Cromwell for your sad demise.
They used to say about Ireland that everything rocks,
And now the whole country’s up on cement block’s.
The lack of a small pack, this shit really drags,
Only the suits can afford 20 fags.
I pray all day in my jeans and my socks,
My heartfelt requiem for the beloved ten box.

This is not a place to scream or shout

This is an oasis where the big dicks hang out

How are you? Where are you from?

Look straight ahead as conversation is wrong

Keep aim true, blast armitage shanks

Too many shakes constitutes a wank

Empty your bladder and have a spit

Return to the toilet for a much needed shit

Way back when we met,
I listened when we spoke.
Few years back,
When we both used to smoke.

In those halcyon days,
Never did it clash.
Calling round to yours,
Beer’s and some hash.

From happily single to trapped in a room,
To sitting pretending to like a shit tune.

Thing’s went south and resulted in fears,
When I look in your eyes, I close both of my ears.

Nasa has claimed it spotted Knackers on Hubble,
Stephen Hawking’s said “Shit, Were in fucking trouble!”.
Direct message to the human race,
The Tinker’s are in outer space.
Wedding’s, fistfights, welfare on the moon,
Ballinasloe, lurchers and an Elvis tune.
Polaris, The Milky Way, Kryptonite,
The universe is one big halting site.
As a planet we cant take any more,
Its going to be a series on Channel 4

I fell in love in the beauty product aisle,
I spotted her robing razors with a radiant smile.
And looking back, it is very hard to believe,
The amount of stuff that she could fit up her sleeve.

“How will I ask her out?”, its going to be hard,
I could blackmail a date as a security guard.
And then one day as I followed her around,
The princess slipped up, and was dragged to the ground.

“This lady is innocent” to the Guard I protested.
“Doesn’t matter a fuck” as my love got arrested.

Slowly she lowered my sausage into the deep fat fryer,
“Oh, Would it taste any better with the temperature turned higher?”
“A playboy” the staff ponder as I order more coleslaw,
“I’ll have a snackbox, a rib-burger, and a club orange also!”
The paragon of Mallaghan’s, there is only one!
“I’ll take ketchup, mayonnaise , and onions on that bun.