Guinness in hand,
shamrocks in his eyes*
His pride, his heritage this Irish
boy cannot hide.
Heart beats to the rhythm of the
strumming of a paddy's banjo,
His blood runs three colours: green,
white and gold.
At night these cobbled streets I
roam.
This sovereign state is
home.
I know that I'll be visiting some day,
I'll stay with my mum's aunt
and uncle up Wexford way.
Getting merry on the ferry,
the Irish Sea I'll cross,
I'd travel miles to crawl the
pubs and bars of New Ross.
At night these cobbled
streets I roam.
This sovereign state
is home.
I'll hire a car and drive down
to Hook Head,
Maybe train it to Tramore or
limp to Loftushall instead.
Or write a song about the time and
all the money I spent,
A song about a boy of Irish descent.
At night these cobbled streets I roam. at
night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sov ereign state is home,
this sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam. at
night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sov ereign state is home,
this sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam. at night
these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home,
this sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam.
at night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home,
this sovereign state is home.
At night these cobbled streets I roam. at
night these cobbled streets I roam.
This sovereign state is home.