Bardic Arts: Songwriting by Vincent D'Orleans

ERIN

When Erin was a little boy, proper raised was he
All his wild and wicked play was punished on the knee

A man of sure refining, exciting as a stump
He never would have dared be seen partaking in this dump.

CHORUS:
Then Erin fell out of bed
He landed right on his head
And now poor boring Erin is the life of the party instead

Now, Erin is a friend of mine, he says such marvelous things
Ever since that bit of luck one stormy night last spring

Erin rarely takes a drink, he has a permanent drunk,
And when he speaks, he speaks a lot of every thought he thunk

CHORUS

Erin came into the pub wearing not a stitch.
We asked him why, he quick replied, “To better scratch an itch.”

He climbed up on the table to let lose with a song,
And would not let us have our beer till we all sang along.

CHORUS

Erin is a buddy pal, though some would say it’s a shame.
He buys me beer and makes me laugh, but can’t remember me name.

He has no hesitation to find a maiden fair,
And point out happily to us all. “She makes a lovely pair.”
CHORUS