"Inchicore Wake" lyrics
There was chase-the-hearse Whelan and old Joe Sartini
His twin-saddled bike; a black market on wheels
Into Stickfoots on Church Street, the oul' Hen and Chicken
Came the Inchicore News, Molly Sonex was dead
When we got word, Dolly Fossett had joined her
All the pub mourned when Eugene played "Taps"
For them ladies of Dublin, made life half worth livin'
They carried no stories, never drew any maps
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
Ructions Murray was weepin', the Tar Barrel was keenin'
Joxer he bugled the last post for hours
While Bigamy O'Keeffe and the Black Paddy Medlar
With Claffys were talkin' the headstones and flowers
They came in their hundreds, black shawlies with Mass Cards
Men dressed in their best out of the pawn suits
Sure the smell of the mothballs and once a year greetings
And the music of love on our sad Dublin Streets
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
That evenin' we gargled, we hassled and argued
We sang the songs and hymns that we barely half knew
For them ladies of Dublin, them Dollies and Mollies
Our tears flowed freely, begrudgers were few
President Kiely came in from Drumcondra
With the mad Capper Crew and a brave Soldiers' Song
We were all broken hearted for the dear dead departed
At the Inchicore Wake in the Days that are gone
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
His twin-saddled bike; a black market on wheels
Into Stickfoots on Church Street, the oul' Hen and Chicken
Came the Inchicore News, Molly Sonex was dead
When we got word, Dolly Fossett had joined her
All the pub mourned when Eugene played "Taps"
For them ladies of Dublin, made life half worth livin'
They carried no stories, never drew any maps
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
Ructions Murray was weepin', the Tar Barrel was keenin'
Joxer he bugled the last post for hours
While Bigamy O'Keeffe and the Black Paddy Medlar
With Claffys were talkin' the headstones and flowers
They came in their hundreds, black shawlies with Mass Cards
Men dressed in their best out of the pawn suits
Sure the smell of the mothballs and once a year greetings
And the music of love on our sad Dublin Streets
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
That evenin' we gargled, we hassled and argued
We sang the songs and hymns that we barely half knew
For them ladies of Dublin, them Dollies and Mollies
Our tears flowed freely, begrudgers were few
President Kiely came in from Drumcondra
With the mad Capper Crew and a brave Soldiers' Song
We were all broken hearted for the dear dead departed
At the Inchicore Wake in the Days that are gone
The old ways of Dublin are passing and fading
Some people vanish while their names linger on
With a rub, o' the relic and an act of contrition
All blamed on the gargle and Mushat's Oul' Balm
