Robbie: I don't want to stand on the stage with a sword. I went to a pantomime once. I was bored. I'm not a poetical sort of a person like you. When I need a poem, the streets and the gutters will do.
There's Tommy Flanagan who lights the gas lamps- A hundred ninety lamps in Phoenix park alone. He's done it drunk for over fifty-seven years In Dublin!
And down on Henry street is Mad John Maher- Old ramblin' Johnny with a face like hammer meat! But Johnny's singin' brings a Dublin man to tears.
I don't know The words to tell you how it feels or how to put it in a rhyme, but if you come with me you'll know How the lamps in the park look like god in the dark as they glow on the streets of Dublin
The dealers hawkin' and the dockers yellin' the buskers bangin' and the ragmen ringin' bells, and there's Maureen whose door is always open for All Dublin!
And Tony Kiely with his racing pigeons. It's like religion how he lives to fly those birds- He swears they travel for a hundred miles or more.
I don't know The kind of words that you might say but I can put it my own way, and if you come with me you'll know that those birds on the wing are a beautiful thing as they blow through the streets of Dublin
And there's music like nothin' you've heard if you know the right jukebox to play! There are glasses to raise in the praise of survivin' the day...
Down where Miss Kitty Farrelly is pourin' whiskey and Frankie Donahughe is lighting her cigar. A smokey den where workin' men don't bring the wife...
It's the laughter of fellas with stories to tell, men who love to get drunk and raise true feckin' hell!
Ah, you come out with me and you'll see what you're missin' in life