Dermot Kelly

Come all ye young fellows, who travel the land,
In search of the craic with guitar in your hand.
Go down to Liscannor, in the County of Clare,
Sure you'll find a pub in it, that's ever so rare
Go up to McHugh's shop the center of town,
You'll get a warm welcome from Joseph on down
The one-legged canary will sing how'd ye do,
In the seven-day license of Joseph Mchugh.
Fill 'em up round the house now, says Joseph McHugh.

You'll meet men from Moher, Lisdoon, and Renine
Judges from Lahinch, and an odd in between.
Sure a tinker from Tulla drops in for a glass,
A box of rat poison and oats for his ass.
Joe strolls up the bar like a captain on deck,
Well, he don't tip his cap, and he don't give a wreck,
If you're Irish, or Spanish, or Russian, or Jew,
You'll get a warm welcome from Joseph McHugh.
Fill 'em up round the house now, says Joseph McHugh.

Well he sells streaky bacon all covered in salt,
To ward off blue-bottles from making a haul.
Now he has cups for coursing, some say that's not fair,
But Liscannor is famous for chasing the hare.
He's a bachelor gay, at the market I hear,
He may take a wife by the end of the year,
But if his greyhound has pups, you can say tooraloo,
For he'll never get married, this Joseph McHugh.
Fill 'em up round the house now, says Joseph McHugh.

Well there now, you have it, this song I declare,
About this wee pub in the sweet county Clare.
Where time has stood still, and the auld ways remain,
And they laugh at computers and mad college brains.
So if you're in trouble, find yourself in a jam,
With the wife, or a greyhound, or a half-pound of ham,
You can do a lot worse, the truth I'll tell you,
Than to visit Liscannor and Joseph McHugh.
Fill 'em up round the house now, says Joseph McHugh.