The happy childhood is hardly worth your while
But nothing can compare to the Irish version
Poverty, bullying, and worst of all, the alcoholic father
He would make me swear to die for Ireland
But couldn't live or even care for me

Malachy, my beloved father as a child, was just a hoax
Just a man who couldn't save himself from the pompous pub
That putrid pub, which sucked away all our wages and gave nothing in return
Except a drunk Irishman singing Kevin Barry all blasted night

"Och, och, och, just go play". That's all you say
When I ask you a question or tell you to stay
Now that I'm grown up, I understand your foolish ways
You can't fool me anymore, or tell me stories of Cuchulain
To make me love you, no, it's not the same

You take long walks and avoid your home duties
And now you want to stay with us, and not go off to England
Because you say, "Don't you want your father here at home with you?"
But we are better off without you, so go off to England
Where you can get a job and send us back some money
But you won’t anyway, so just get out
Leave Limerick, leave Ireland, and get out of our lives