"The Night The Gards Raided Owenys" lyrics
And the music began, in an old fashioned style
You would travel to hear it, for many a mile
I was drinking' and laughin' away all the while
Sure, I thought I was dead and in heaven
One evening of late down to Crow Street I strayed
To a bar that's famous for doin' the late trade
In vodka and whiskey, and red lemonade
Among company that's kindly and jovial
The man from Kinawley put me at me ease
And he sat me down easy beside a big blaze
He poured me a pint, and a half one that blazed
And another wee drop came from Oweny
For an hour and a half, I drank liquor so rare
"You would swear it was brewed by the gods" I declare
Out of nectars and honeys and lotuses fair
And it freshly came over the border
At half past eleven, I sadly prepared
To return to my lodgings, back where I was reared
I packed up my bags, I was filled with dull care
And then Oweny put in a big order
So the tipplers relaxed, and returned to their drinks
Rejoicing that now they need not feel the pinch
Peter Short finished off the last eighth of an inch
He was suckin' since twenty past seven
And the music began, in an old fashioned style
You would travel to hear it, for manys a mile
We were laughin' and dancin' away all the while
I thought I was dead and in Heaven
There were lads there from Newry, the Rock and the Hack
And some came from Belfast and never went back
And more lived convenient, the Carrolls and Blacks
And every man Jacks swilling porter
Some came from Hill Street, and more from the Quay
Some Crossmaglen patriots, tearing away
Inniskeen, Donaghmoyne, they were all in array
And each one kept themselves in good order
A big dirty Gards, was out on the street
On passing the door, heard the music so sweet
And kicked up his heels, for to beat a retreat
And to summon up two of his cronies
They quickly returned to the scene of the crime
And they called on the company to fight or resign
"Let them in" cried Pat Murphy, "We'll only be fined"
On the night that the Gards raided Owenys
Said the Sergeant on entering, "Well what's this I see?
And why are so many of ye on the spree?
Could it be that at long last the country is free?
Your conduct it is most nefarious"
"Oh the country's not free" then Oweny did say
"If you want to drink porter, like the rest you must pay
We'll stay here if we like till the clear light of day
You know in Dundalk we're gregarious"
So the Gards went around and they took all our names
And they struggled to spell with their feeble wee brains
And of some names in Irish, they made a great hames
And more they abandoned forever
To the roof of Mulholland's some quickly did climb
To gaze on afar at the scene of the crime
To watch the auld Gards makin' good overtime
As they gathered the rest all together
May the Divil he roast them high up on the ramp
The Garda, the sergeant, the lad with the lamp
The dirty, mean, miserable, lousy, low tramps
From the bog that were dragged up so lowly
May they always see suffering and sorrow and pain
May their boots never fit and their belts never strain
If they interrupt such a grand evenin' again
As the night that the Gards raided Owneys
May their motors all stand and their noses all run
And their necks now so red, all turn green in the sun
And their teeth all turn black and fall out one by one
May starvation it make them grow boney
May their arses all fester and drop to their heels
And their last dying minutes be tempered with squeals
May they dance forever, the fastest of reels
With the Divil for raiding poor Oweny
You would travel to hear it, for many a mile
I was drinking' and laughin' away all the while
Sure, I thought I was dead and in heaven
One evening of late down to Crow Street I strayed
To a bar that's famous for doin' the late trade
In vodka and whiskey, and red lemonade
Among company that's kindly and jovial
The man from Kinawley put me at me ease
And he sat me down easy beside a big blaze
He poured me a pint, and a half one that blazed
And another wee drop came from Oweny
For an hour and a half, I drank liquor so rare
"You would swear it was brewed by the gods" I declare
Out of nectars and honeys and lotuses fair
And it freshly came over the border
At half past eleven, I sadly prepared
To return to my lodgings, back where I was reared
I packed up my bags, I was filled with dull care
And then Oweny put in a big order
So the tipplers relaxed, and returned to their drinks
Rejoicing that now they need not feel the pinch
Peter Short finished off the last eighth of an inch
He was suckin' since twenty past seven
And the music began, in an old fashioned style
You would travel to hear it, for manys a mile
We were laughin' and dancin' away all the while
I thought I was dead and in Heaven
There were lads there from Newry, the Rock and the Hack
And some came from Belfast and never went back
And more lived convenient, the Carrolls and Blacks
And every man Jacks swilling porter
Some came from Hill Street, and more from the Quay
Some Crossmaglen patriots, tearing away
Inniskeen, Donaghmoyne, they were all in array
And each one kept themselves in good order
A big dirty Gards, was out on the street
On passing the door, heard the music so sweet
And kicked up his heels, for to beat a retreat
And to summon up two of his cronies
They quickly returned to the scene of the crime
And they called on the company to fight or resign
"Let them in" cried Pat Murphy, "We'll only be fined"
On the night that the Gards raided Owenys
Said the Sergeant on entering, "Well what's this I see?
And why are so many of ye on the spree?
Could it be that at long last the country is free?
Your conduct it is most nefarious"
"Oh the country's not free" then Oweny did say
"If you want to drink porter, like the rest you must pay
We'll stay here if we like till the clear light of day
You know in Dundalk we're gregarious"
So the Gards went around and they took all our names
And they struggled to spell with their feeble wee brains
And of some names in Irish, they made a great hames
And more they abandoned forever
To the roof of Mulholland's some quickly did climb
To gaze on afar at the scene of the crime
To watch the auld Gards makin' good overtime
As they gathered the rest all together
May the Divil he roast them high up on the ramp
The Garda, the sergeant, the lad with the lamp
The dirty, mean, miserable, lousy, low tramps
From the bog that were dragged up so lowly
May they always see suffering and sorrow and pain
May their boots never fit and their belts never strain
If they interrupt such a grand evenin' again
As the night that the Gards raided Owneys
May their motors all stand and their noses all run
And their necks now so red, all turn green in the sun
And their teeth all turn black and fall out one by one
May starvation it make them grow boney
May their arses all fester and drop to their heels
And their last dying minutes be tempered with squeals
May they dance forever, the fastest of reels
With the Divil for raiding poor Oweny
