| Funky Ce?l? (Bridie's Song) |
| Bridie was teachin' out in Carysfort I was workin' in the bank 2 paycheques every Friday And a Morris Minor out the back But I was mad for jigs and reels Drinkin' dirty big pints of stout When the Bank of Ireland gave me the boot They said "Don't let the door hit your arse on the way out." Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee I was born to play the funky ce?l? Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV I love you, a cushla, but how could I be Without me punky funky ce?l? Bridie broke down and started to bawl When I told her about me divorce from the bank She said "I've got news of me own, a stor, I'm 2 months late, it's not with the rent" She said I'd have to be tellin' her Da So we drove the Morris Minor to Cork The ould fella said "You've got two choices, Castration, or a one way ticket to New York!" So here I am up on Bainbridge Avenue Still in one piece but glad I'm alive Drinkin' dirty big glasses of porter Playin' me jigs and me reels and me slides Think of you, Bridie, whenever I'm sober Which isn't too often, I have to confess Take good care of the Morris Minor Bad luck to your Da And give the baby a great big kiss.... From his Daddy in the Bronx Oh Bridie, I'm still crazy about you, girl Does the baby look like me, Bridie? Has he got red hair and glasses? Oh, Bridie, sell the Morris Minor Come on out to America, girl The pubs never close over here I've got a palace up on Bainbridge Avenue I've got the biggest bed in the world, girl, We can stay in it and make babies forever.... |