Irish Homecoming with Flowers

 
You're banjaxed so you are
judging by the smell of yez
and you look like the banshee's
been howling your name
for a week past.
It's only the door frame
that's holding yez upright
You were always a waster
as much use as a lighthouse in a bog
with nothing in the press
and not two coins to rub together

Yet you're up there ready,
the first to bang on O'Reilly's door
come opening time
Never mind the pouring rain
you'll take a bath in the black stuff
and always be last to leave
And wouldn't it be some miracle
for yez to show your face at mass
once in a blue moon
Father's given up asking after yez altogether,
with it being Christmas since your last communion

How in the name of all the saints
did I get myself hitched to a tyke like you
You're a disgrace to the state of holy matrimony
Even the devil wouldn't bother with yez
now you've sold your soul to the drink twice over

Is that flowers you've brought?
Sure what a charmer you are
if I didn't know yez better
I'd think you'd passed the cemetery
on your way home

Away on to bed with yez
Take those muddy boots off
and no acting the maggot
when you're up those stairs