
Plastic Paddy Eric Bogle
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"Plastic Paddy"
-Eric Bogle
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
He's just a Plastic Paddy, singin' Plastic Paddy songs
In a Plastic Paddy pub that they call The Blarny Stone
There's plastic shamrocks everywhere, there's Guinness and green beer
And a sign in gaelic above the bar which says "God Bless All Here"
His guitar sounds like a wardrobe, and it's out of tune at that
His singin' voice it ranges from a sharp to a flat
He's just desecrated "The Holy Ground", ripped apart "Black Velvet Band"
Sang some nights drunk and now he's sunk "The Irish Rover" with all hands
'Cause he's just a Plastic Paddy, singin' Plastic Paddy songs
In a Plastic Paddy pub that they call The Blarny Stone
The publican's a proddy Scot by the name of McIntyre
Who does not allow collections for the men behind the wire
He's done awful things to "Molly Malone" and "The Farrows of Tralee"
He's murdered "Carach Fergus" and poor old "Mother Machree"
He's just thrashed his way through "Galway Bay" and "The Wild Irish Rose"
-Eric Bogle
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
Hup! dee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee diddle-ee dah
He's just a Plastic Paddy, singin' Plastic Paddy songs
In a Plastic Paddy pub that they call The Blarny Stone
There's plastic shamrocks everywhere, there's Guinness and green beer
And a sign in gaelic above the bar which says "God Bless All Here"
His guitar sounds like a wardrobe, and it's out of tune at that
His singin' voice it ranges from a sharp to a flat
He's just desecrated "The Holy Ground", ripped apart "Black Velvet Band"
Sang some nights drunk and now he's sunk "The Irish Rover" with all hands
'Cause he's just a Plastic Paddy, singin' Plastic Paddy songs
In a Plastic Paddy pub that they call The Blarny Stone
The publican's a proddy Scot by the name of McIntyre
Who does not allow collections for the men behind the wire
He's done awful things to "Molly Malone" and "The Farrows of Tralee"
He's murdered "Carach Fergus" and poor old "Mother Machree"
He's just thrashed his way through "Galway Bay" and "The Wild Irish Rose"
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