Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangers and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin, she’s lying at the quay
For to take oul Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was “The Jug Of Punch.”
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
Photos of things that made me hum an Irish tune