It was in the year of '88
in the lovely month of June
When the gadflies were swarming
and dogs howling at the moon
With rosary beads and sandwiches
Joxer packed his German phrasebook
and jumpleads for the van
Some of the lads had never been
'Twas the first time Whacker put his foot
Before we left for Europe
So we all agreed that Joxer
was the man to drive the van
'twas like the Long Mile Road
There was every make of car and van
all carrying the full load
and old Bedford from Tralee
With the engine overheating
from longhauling duty free
There was fans from Ballygermot,
On the journey of a lifetime,
and the crack was ninety- one
Joxer met a German's daughter
on the banks of the river Rhine
And he told her she'd be welcome
As soon as we found Stuttgart
we got the wagons in a ring
Sean Og got out the banjo,
Peter played the mandolin
There was fans there from everywhere
At the first Fleadh Ceoil in Europe,
and Joxer passed the round
when we'd finished all the stout
The air mattresses inflated
and the sleeping bags rolled out
As one by one we fell asleep
He dreamt himself and Jack Charlton
sat down to pick the team
Well, Joxer dreamt they both agreed
on Packie Bonner straight away
And that Moran, Whelan and McGrath
But tempers they began to rise
and patience wearing thin
The dream turned into a nightmare,
Joxer stuck the head on Jack
Who wanted to bring Johnny Giles
The cock crew in the morning,
it crew both loud and shrill
Joxer woke up in his sleeping bag
many miles from Arbour Hill
The next morning none of the experts
gave us the slightest chance
They said the English team would lead us
With their Union Jacks all them English fans
for victory they were set
Until Ray Houghton got the ball
What happened next is history,
brought tears to many eyes
That day will be the highlight
Joxer climbed right over the top
and the last time he was seen
Was arm in arm with Jack Charlton
singing, Revenge for Skibereen.
