Ireland is a very funny place, sir, It's a strange and troubled land, And the Irish are a bloody funny race, sir, Every girl's in Cumann na mBan; Every doggie has a tricoloured ribbon Tied firmly to its tail, And it wouldn't be surprisin’ if there'd be another Risin’, Says the man from the Daily Mail. CHORUS: Well, every bird, upon my word, is singing treble, "I'm a rebel!" Every hen and jay are laying hand grenades over there, sir, I declare, sir, And every cock in the farmyard stock Crows a triumph for the Gael, And it wouldn't be surprisin’ if there'd be another Risin’, Says the man from the Daily Mail. The other day I travelled down to Clare, sir, And I spied at an old boreen Such a squad of right and busy Fenians there, sir, Dressed in orange, white and green; They marched along to the German goosestep, As they whistled Granuaille, And it wouldn't be surprisin’ if there'd be another Risin’, Says the man from the Daily Mail. CHORUS Oh, the place is seething with sedition, It's Sinn Fein through and through, All the Gardaí are joining local units, And the password's "Sinn Fein" too; Every doggie has a tricoloured ribbon Tied firmly to its tail, And it wouldn't be surprisin’ if there'd be another Risin’, Says the man from the Daily Mail. CHORUS 6: I WISH I WAS BACK IN LIVERPOOL (Words: Stan Kelly-Bootle / Music: Leon Rosselson) CHORUS: I wish I was back in Liverpool, Liverpool Town where I was born, Where there ain't no trees, no scented breeze, no fields of waving corn, But there's lots of girls with peroxide curls, and the “Black an’ Tan” flows free, Where there’s six in a bed, by the old Pierhead, and it's Liverpool Town for me. Well, it's seven long years since I wandered away to sail the wide world o'er, Me very first trip was an old steamship bound away for Baltimore, I was seven days sick, I just couldn’t stick the bobbin’ up and down, And I told them, “Jack, you’d better turn back to dear old Liverpool Town.” CHORUS We dug the Mersey Tunnel, boys, way back in ‘33, Dug a hole in the ground until we found a hole called Wallasey, Then the foreman cried, “Come on outside, the roof is fallin’ down!” And I'm telling ye, Jack, we all swam back to dear old Liverpool Town. CHORUS There's every race and colour of face, there’s every kind of name, But the pigeons on the Pierhead, well, they treat us all the same, And if you walk up Upper Parliament Street, you’ll see faces black and brown, And I've often seen them Orange and Green in dear old Liverpool Town. CHORUS