Tara The Irish Rovers

Popsicles, fudgisicles, shortcake ice cream
Once it was two-four a dime
He held her close and they danced on the lawn
And she whispers "who cares about time"

Tara is the young girl in parliament square
Sells ice cream from the bicycle cart
With her golden blonde hair, she's the head of the square
With the deedest, and dover the heart
And old folks, and young folks, and lovers and all
Scrambles to Tara to find
That the joy of a lick, from a popsicle stick
Is somehow unchanged by time

Tara sells ice cream on parliament square
To the old man who sits with his cane
And he stares at the ground, as the ice cream slides down off the stick
As he ponders it then
He closes his hands, as his eyes fill with tears
For he knows, there is no hand to hold
And he tilts down his cap, and he smiles at the bat
The tears,or the toys or the old

Popsicles, fudgisicles, shortcake ice cream
Once it was two-four a dime
He held her close and they danced on the lawn
And she whispers "who cares about time"