Stephen Lynch - Down to the Old Pub Instead lyrics
[Stephen Lynch - Down to the Old Pub Instead lyrics]
Lad, it's your duty to find ye a lass
With child-bearing hips and a pink
Supple ass and make her your wife and love
Her with love so true
Now some rivers run high, some rivers run low
When her river runs red
Then she's starting her flow
And it's called menstr'ation
And here's what it means to you
You will notice her bloomers
Are spotty at first
Stand back – her ovarian dam's gonna burst
Son, don't be afraid, it's a natural t'ing
Just wad up some cotton and
Hand her some string
Put the old linens on top of the bed
Get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead
She'll retain her water
Her breasts will be tender
And every third word that you
Say will offend her
Get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead
And she'll want to make love – if you do
You're a fool 'Cause you'll only end up
With a bloody O'Toole
Get out of the house – down
To the old pub instead
And she'll want you to sample
The fruit of her loins but son
It'll taste like some old rusty coins
So turn off the light, boy
And take off your hat
And drop to your knees
Say a prayer to Saint Pat
Then he'll give you the strength to
Get out of the bed and for Ireland's sake
Go down to the old pub instead
Now the pub is the place
Where the lads are a-meetin'
When the moon's full and
The gals are a-bleedin'
The Catholic, the Protestant, even the pagan
The pub is the place when
Your lady is raggin'
So drink of your pint, boys
And thank your shamrocks
That as menfolk we don't have
To bleed from our cocks
And that we can escape from the lady in red
And get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead
With child-bearing hips and a pink
Supple ass and make her your wife and love
Her with love so true
Now some rivers run high, some rivers run low
When her river runs red
Then she's starting her flow
And it's called menstr'ation
And here's what it means to you
You will notice her bloomers
Are spotty at first
Stand back – her ovarian dam's gonna burst
Son, don't be afraid, it's a natural t'ing
Just wad up some cotton and
Hand her some string
Put the old linens on top of the bed
Get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead
She'll retain her water
Her breasts will be tender
And every third word that you
Say will offend her
Get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead
And she'll want to make love – if you do
You're a fool 'Cause you'll only end up
With a bloody O'Toole
Get out of the house – down
To the old pub instead
And she'll want you to sample
The fruit of her loins but son
It'll taste like some old rusty coins
So turn off the light, boy
And take off your hat
And drop to your knees
Say a prayer to Saint Pat
Then he'll give you the strength to
Get out of the bed and for Ireland's sake
Go down to the old pub instead
Now the pub is the place
Where the lads are a-meetin'
When the moon's full and
The gals are a-bleedin'
The Catholic, the Protestant, even the pagan
The pub is the place when
Your lady is raggin'
So drink of your pint, boys
And thank your shamrocks
That as menfolk we don't have
To bleed from our cocks
And that we can escape from the lady in red
And get out of the house and go
Down to the old pub instead