Happy St. Patrick's Day Eve
It's blowing and snowing here, changed from rain to sleet mid-day, now wettish snow-rain. Gonna be icy. And it's Thursday night, so I'm sure some of the young will be starting their partying weekend early...
Be safe out there. Here's a song for indoors...
(Althouse is playing language Nazi and it got my Irish up. ;-) They call the travelling peoples tinkers in Ireland -- you think she'll try to outlaw the word "tinkering" based on old ethnic resentments?)
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I knew Danny Farrell when his football was a can
With his hand-me-downs and Wellers and his sandwiches of branBut now that pavement peasant is a full grown bitter man
With all the trials and troubles of his travelling people's clan...
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier...
I knew Danny Farrell when he joined the national school.
He was lousy at the Gaelic; they called him amadan and fool.
He was brilliant at the toss school, or trading objects in the pawn...
By the time he was an adult, all his charming ways were gone.
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user,
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
I knew Danny Farrell when he queued up for the dole,
and he tried to hide the loss of pride,
that eats away the soul.
But mending pots and kettles is a trade lost in the past.
"There's no handouts here for tinkers" was the answer when he asked.
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user,
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
I still know Danny Farrell, saw him just there yesterday,
Drinking methylated spirits, with some winos on the quay.
Now he's 40 going on 80, with his eyes of hope bereft,
and he told me this for certain, "There's not many of us left."
He was lousy at the Gaelic; they called him amadan and fool.
He was brilliant at the toss school, or trading objects in the pawn...
By the time he was an adult, all his charming ways were gone.
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user,
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
I knew Danny Farrell when he queued up for the dole,
and he tried to hide the loss of pride,
that eats away the soul.
But mending pots and kettles is a trade lost in the past.
"There's no handouts here for tinkers" was the answer when he asked.
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user,
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
I still know Danny Farrell, saw him just there yesterday,
Drinking methylated spirits, with some winos on the quay.
Now he's 40 going on 80, with his eyes of hope bereft,
and he told me this for certain, "There's not many of us left."
He's a looser a boozer, a me and you user,
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
A raider, a traitor, a peoples police hater,
So lonely and only, what you call a gurrier,
Still now... Danny Farrell, he's a man.
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