The Irish Song Lyrics

Mike Mc Geer was an engineer and he liked that barley rice

He stayed alone right by the phone while his wife went out each night

To the Irish pub for a bathtub rub where she would drink a keg

Then we'd be there to share the beer and watch her curvy legs

Oh quick as a whip and tight as a fist old Mike Mc Geer would try

to find that witch and kiss her lips and ignore her alibi

For he knew she was hot to trot on the spots where the paddy people play

But down on his luck for his attitude sucks no fun for him today

Fie I fiddle de die Fie I diddle de do

I'll fie for ye I'll fiddle a few

You fie for me and I'll fiddle for you

Poor Mike Mc Geer was not aware that his lady worked all night

She'd punch the clock and kiss the cock that crowed to her delight

She stayed out and drank her stout till the clovers all fell down

And she'd be crocked by six o'clock and still not homeward bound

Mike Mc Geer wouldn't dare beware but soon his day would come

But soon his fun and the tales he spun would impress upon no one

For the days are few for the news on the loose of a cunning leprechaun

He'll hop and skip and trip and quip until his story's done