Oh, ev'rybody
Is in the dumps
In Dublin.
We drink hot toddy
And feel like chumps
In Dublin.
There's not much to relish
In a life so hellish,
But we cling to the comforting myth
That we would have been happier with
A regime patriotic and Parnell-ish.
The gloom's incessant,
So keep the cup
A-bubblin',
A strong depressant
Will cheer us up,
We suppose.
Since we're never getting better, we'll get drunk instead,
While we quote a lot of books we've never even read --
In Dublin,
That's the way it goes.
Our deep desires
Decay and die
In Dublin.
Those creepy friars
Are riding high
In Dublin.
Ev'ry new confession
Is a new obsession,
But we guess it's the way that we're built,
'Cause we're stricken with sickening guilt
And a big dose of Catholic depression.
No other city
Is half as low
Or troublin',
Our sweet self-pity
Can bloom and grow
Like a rose.
Things are worse for Mr. Bloom, whenever he's in bed,
He thinks he's good, but Molly thinks that he's The Dead --
In Dublin,
That's the way it goes.
And yeah, "bloom and grow" was an intentional Sound of Music joke.
No comments:
Post a Comment