The Sick Bed Of Cuchulainn - The Pogues

McCormack and Richard

Tauber are singing by the bed

There's a glass of punch

Below your feet

And an angel at your head

There's devils on each

Side of you with bottles in their hands

You need one more drop of poison

And you'll dream of foreign lands

When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt

And got syph down in Cologne

And you heard the rattling death

Trains as you lay there all alone

Frank Ryan brought you whiskey

In a brothel in Madrid

And you decked some f**king

Blackshirt who was cursing all the Yids

At the sick bed of Cuchulainn

We'll kneel and say a prayer

And the ghosts are rattling

At the door and the devil's in the chair

And in the Euston Tavern

You screamed it was your shout

But they wouldn't give you service

So you kicked the windows out

They took you out into the street

And kicked you in the brains

So you walked back in through a bolted

Door and did it all again

At the sick bed of Cuchulainn

We'll kneel and say a prayer

And the ghosts are rattling at the door

And the devil's in the chair

You remember that foul evening

When you heard the banshees howl

There was lazy drunken bastards

Singing Billy is in the bowl

They took you up to midnight mass

And left you in the lurch

So you dropped a button in the plate

And spewed up in the church

Now you'll sing a song of liberty

For blacks and paks and jocks

And they'll take you from this dump

You're in and stick you in a box

Then they'll take you to Cloughprior

And shove you in the ground

But you'll stick your head back out

And shout we'll have another round

At the graveside of Cuchulainn

We'll kneel around and pray

And God is in His heaven

And Billy's down by the bay