Philosophy Of The Common
People
LUCK OF THE IRISH
Not far from our beloved bonnie Isle of heathery paradise
'Twould be just our dreadful luck, lowland of the vile Irish lies
Who drown bad whiskey in caffeine’s cup of the uncouth barbarian
Without repentance from such depravity of Presbyterian-less sin
While in our bonnie land o’ grace, the pride of our fearless clan
Imbibe in rounds of fair heaven that clearly set us apart from such heathen
And as those savage Irish infidels of miscreant Catholic idolatry
Drown their contemptible wretched brew in a full cup of coffee iniquity
The separation of cultured gentlemen becomes quite plain for all to see
For the refined Scotsman in the best whiskey, tosses in a wee bit o’ tea
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