Alchemisland

Whispering in the wind, ear to ground lobe to bark but news in thin

Lots of dogs barking, lots of nosey parkers, lots of noise in the car park

In the parlours and barbers, but no one I know has the charlie

Someone has to take charge, because fuck all do the Gards

No harm than good would most regard, bunch of fat retards

Grey haired fat lads living in Catholic fantasyland, or angry culchies

Up here with the shoulder chip, getting pushy; this ain’t Russia

GAA didn’t work out did it? King of the town, smaller fry in this big dipper

Smoking cushty fingertips rusty with long tugging on tobacco

Used to smoke the pack out in an evening, dizzy on my seat

Arsing around, cats with the cream, living what I thought was a dream.