Miss Ireland Knows

I heard it on the radio

That we’re improvised once again

I heard it on the radio

That

Miss Ireland knows

The country is short on dough

Cause she can’t buy

Any clothes

Oh

Miss Ireland Knows

The boys from sprout are here to foreclose

And move us to a land undisclosed

And those that stay will have to pay

A penal penalty dear

For Miss Ireland knows

The country is short on dough

Cause she can’t buy any clothes

Oh Miss Island knows

The Govermnent calls on the Telephone

Ireland calling sprout Zone

Ireland calling

The meltdown has come

Fill the bowl

Fill the bowl

For the money is gone

And the Tombstones of the poor

Have disappeared

To be sold in Kenmare

For miss Ireland knows

The country is short on dough

Cause she can’t buy any clothes

Oh

Miss Ireland knows

The men are drinking pints of bitter tears

And tasting the ashes of decay and arrears

Verbalizing into unhearing ears

Coursing through their veins are cries of desperation

Witnessing the closing doors of desolation

Oh how the river cascades full of trials and tribulations

Oh how the river flows

Deep down in their souls

They know fear is on the march

For they are afflicted by a fiscal tightrope

From whose scorn their is no hope

Can they escape to grow old?

Without the serfdom of being controlled

Let’s have revolution

Let’s have a new constitution

Let’s flee through the trap door

To find the allure

Of The elusive Cote D’Or

All that my friends

Is true

For

Miss Ireland knows

The country is short on dough

Cause she can’t buy

Any clothss

Oh

Miss Ireland  Knows