The Irish Song

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