Here's a little song about the holiest country in all the world
Holy Ireland
Is'ain't that right, Johnny?
That's right, that's the truth, you start and I'll join in
Right, Johnny, here we go
Now they call us Holy Ireland, great big potholes everywhere
If you're going out a-driving, make sure to bring the spare
Ah, me little back suspension goes bobbing up and down
Even though I pay me road tax, they treat me like a clown
There's big ones, there's little ones, there's some a duck could swim
And if you hit a bad one, you'll soon be on the rim
You can go and get your puncher fixed, there's no one from to claim
You can ask your county counselor, but he won't take the blame
So, they call us Holy Ireland, great big potholes everywhere
If you're going out a-driving, make sure to bring the spare
Ah, me little back suspension goes bobbing up and down
Even though I pay me road tax, they treat me like a clown
Now, Johnny, it's your turn
That's right, that's the truth
They send out a great big lorry with three fellows in the back
A little barrel, a tar, and a few chippings in the sack
They're hunting for the potholes, but they don't get very far
After filling twenty holes, they get run out of tar
So, they call us Holy Ireland, great big potholes everywhere
If you're going out a-driving, make sure to bring the spare
Ah, me little back suspension goes bobbing up and down
Even though I pay me road tax, they treat me like a clown
So they head back for the depot, but they're told to go away
The hanger man says one barrel's supposed to last all day
Now, I don't blame the council men, their back is to the wall
I blame them fancy fellows sitting down there in the Dail
So, they call us Holy Ireland, great big potholes everywhere
If you're going out a-driving, make sure to bring the spare
Ah, me little back suspension goes bobbing up and down
Even though I pay me road tax, they treat me like a clown
Now, when there's an election, they'll come knocking at your door
Says you, "I remember you, you were here before"
You said ya'd fill the potholes, you treat me like a goat
If you fill up the potholes, then I'll give you me vote
So, they call us Holy Ireland, great big potholes everywhere
If you're going out a-driving, make sure to bring the spare
Ah, me little back suspension goes bobbing up and down
Even though I pay me road tax, they treat me like a clown
Even though you pay your road tax, they treat you like a clown
That's right, that's the truth