The Troubles I've Never Had (Mick Brady)
I've got your number in my pocket and a smile upon my face
My number's just come up and I'm heading out to your place
It’s been a real good day, it’s gonna be a real good night
Gonna double up the fun, gonna do it, do it, do it, do it twice
You could say that I’ve been lucky, life hasn’t been so bad
I could list a lot of troubles that I have never had:
I’ve never been broke, I’ve never been sick
I’ve been down but I’ve never been licked
I’ve taken all the tests but I’ve never been failed
I’ve often been arrested but I’ve never been jailed
I’ve got the soft top down and the radio is on
That DJ just keeps playing all my favourite songs
I don't ever worry much, I'm such a laid-back guy
I've got all the peace of mind that only money's gonna buy
You could say that I’ve been lucky, life hasn’t been so bad
And here's a couple more of the troubles I've never had:
Never had to lie, never had to cheat
Always seem to bounce back on my feet
My girl didn't run off with my very best friend
But his wife invites me over every now and again
I've got the cutest little house on the leafy side of town
I've got shag-pile in the bedroom I've got sheepskin in the lounge
My only fear is that I might be only dreaming all along
And I'll wake up in the gutter in some tear-soaked country song
You could say that I’ve been lucky, life hasn’t been so bad
The list goes on and on of the troubles I've never had:
I’ve never been trapped down a dark coal mine
Never been drowned in an ocean of crying
Daddy didn’t drink, Mama wasn’t on the game
And Granny never got run over by a runaway train
You must agree that I’ve been lucky, life hasn’t been so bad
These are just a few of the troubles I've never had
We Shouldn't Be Here At All (Mick Brady)
After years of hard living, lots of drink and loose women
We’re beginning to feel our age
We’re not looking the best, we have to take little rests
We can’t do what we used to backstage
We’ve got ailments galore, every muscle is sore
We’ve got pains deep down in our bones
We’ve all got false teeth, we’ve athlete’s foot in both feet
We’re checking out old people’s homes
We shouldn’t be here at all
‘Cos ever since Lanigan’s Ball
We’ve been totally relyin’
On the appliance of science
To keep us from going to the wall
We’re crippled with the gout, our hair is falling out
We've got dyfunctions that are erectile
We’ve all sorts of complaints, I’m not saying that we’re saints
But we’re martyrs to the piles
We admit we’re wrecked and you have to suspect
That we’re not for this world for too long
I don't know where we're headin' but if we get into Heaven
We’ll all be singing this song
Thank god for artificial hips, for viagra and for drips
For transplants, implants and prosthetics
For silicone, testosterone, for HRT and cortisone
The poultice, hypnosis and emetics
I Wouldn't Mind Being Keith Richards' G-String (Mick Brady)
I was sipping a beer in a little cafe
I was thinking to myself if I could come back some day
And I could be anything other than me
Now I don’t believe in reincarnation
But if it happened by some aberration
I think I know what I’d like to be
I wouldn’t mind being Keith Richard’s G-string
Up on stage in front of all those fans
Playing every night to a hundred thousand people
Ruby Tuesday, Street Fightin’ Man
I’d be strummed and I’d be picked
I’d be playing those famous licks
I’d be bent and I’d be stretched
Hammered-on and bottle-necked
It wouldn’t be an easy life
I'd be locked up in a case on long, long flights
Just me, Les Paul and E, A and D – and B and high E
But when the lights go down and the crowd is boppin'
And the music's loud and the band is rockin
Then I’d know I was where I wanted to be
I can see myself on a cool guitar
With this torn and tattered rock ‘n’ roll star
Tuned up, ready to go into action
Start Me Up, Tumblin’ Dice
It’s Only Rock ‘N’ Roll but it sure feels nice
Honky Tonk Women, getting’ so much Satisfaction
Paint My Coffin Whorehouse Red
Mick Brady
Grandaddy was a ladies man
It was Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam
He knew all the girls down at the Club Exotique
You could find him there any day of the week
He had his own special seat right in front of the stage
Had to sit up close on account of his age
When he died his will was read
It was a shock for the the family when they heard what it said
Paint my coffin whorehouse red
Lay me out on a king-sized bed
Get some topless dancers for an all-night vigil
Play some brassy music that'll make them wiggle
I want chorus girls in FM shoes
For a guard of honour for my last move
Take my ashes out on the town
Scatter them all around The Pussycat Lounge
Now a man's last wish is kinda sacred
A hundred dancers came, they were all half naked
He was looking good in his Playboy shroud
Everybody said he would have been so proud
It was all about glamour, it had class, it had style
And old grandpa – he lived the way that he died
The preacher said it shouldn't be allowed
But we had to call the cops to control the crowd
Pole dancers crying salty tears
Wiping their eyes with their tiny brassieres
It got a little bit emotional when those sweet, sweet gals
Had two minutes silence for my grandad
I Love My Wife (Jeff Mondak & Mick Brady)
Her mother paints with mascara
To hide her bloodshot eyes
She wears stretch pants and a tiara
There's grooves worn in her thighs
Her grandma sure ain’t no better
She leaves her teeth on the floor
I wish she’d button up her sweater
I wish she'd shut the bathroom door
I love my wife, I love her a lot
Even with her lazy brother in our basement
Sleeping on a fold-out cot
I love my wife, I love my wife
Her daddy is missing a finger
He cut himself when he shaved
He once went on Jerry Springer
That's where he got his tattoo engraved
Bertha is my wife’s first cousin
She's quite attractive, but mostly to flies
She drinks six packs by the dozen
She orders her sushi fried
I love my wife, I love her so much
Even when she makes me risk my life hunting
With her lunatic Uncle Dutch
I love my wife, I love my wife
Her cousin Roy fell on a fence post and got a ticket
on the way to hospital ... for driving while impaled
Her niece Ronnie Mae tried to breed three-legged dogs....
Well, everybody she knew had one
Her kid sister tried to give herself liposuction....
using a drill and a straw
Her Aunt Betsy thought a lobotomy
would make her ear lobes look smaller.......
She don’t think that no more
I love my wife and that’s the truth
Even when her nephews make believe it’s raining
By pissing off my Volkswagen’s roof
I love my wife, I love my wife
I don’t think much of her family
But I love my wife
Hey St. Patrick (Mick Brady)
We used to see them in Armani from Clonmel to Donnycarney
All the WAGS were falling off their Jimmy Choos
Taking choppers to the races, stripey shirts and big red faces
Stupid gobshites didn't have a clue
Bankers on the make, politicians on the take
Golden circles, digouts, dirty deals
The country torn apart by clowns
Watchdogs never made a sound
Tossers got the nation on its knees
Hey St Patrick, how’s the crack?
Why don’t you banish these *****
And let the snakes come back
Hey St Patrick, how’s the crack?
Why don’t you banish these *****
And let the snakes come back
Land of milk and honey, greedy bastards and their money
But Fingers got his fingers in the pie
Seanie boy still owes us millions, assholes gonna cost us billions
Patrick! You can't sit idly by!!
So let’s banish these cute hoors, let's make them pay their dues
Don't wanna hear about no ifs and buts
And bring back all the snakes, sure it’s only give and take
Hey Patrick, c’mon and do your stuff
Thierry, What's The Story...? (Richie Maguire & Mick Brady)
Destination Paris, Stade de France, St Denis
Trapattoni's Army, the place was a sea green
A flukey goal in Croker left us one-nil down
There we were in Paris – Oh the boys were back in town
Thierry what's the story, that goal was just a farce
All we wanted was a replay so we'd sort it on the park
You said you didn't mean it but our fate was in your hands
Shoulda given us replay, 'cos you owed it to the fans
The boys in green, they got stuck in
Put the pressure on Les Blues
Robbie stuck it in the net, oh the place was like A zoo
Here we come Johannesburg, South Africa or bust
But Thierry's handpass to Liam Og Gallas, so it's Courtown for us
From Athenry to Ballyheigue, from Tallaght to Tralee
The Twitter and The Facebook, the whole wide world's agreed
We were cheated, we were diddled, we were shafted
We woz robbed
Shoulda given us a replay so we'd finish off the job
My Malaprop Baby (Jeff Mondak & Mick Brady)
If I tell her that I adore her
The feeling is neutral, she’ll say
She won’t let a gift horse into the house
‘cause Rome wasn’t burnt in a day
She says she likes to sing Acapulco
With garlics of flowers in her hair
She wants to keep me in suspenders
And snuggle like a polo bear
She's my malaprop baby
All her similes crash
She's my malaprop baby
And her metaphors clash
The mother tongue should be offended
By the phrases she has blended
She's my malaprop baby
And she loves to talk trash
She says our love won’t fade into Bolivian
Though we're only living head to toe
She put her chickens all in one basket
When she shot me with Stupid's Bow
She swears she won’t mince her punches
Or upset my apple tart
She wants to go to Rome to see the sixteenth chapel
'Cos she loves that Renegade Art
She's my malaprop baby
And all her words are abused
She's my malaprop baby
Got me feeling confused
Her garbled talk should leave me reeling
Still I find her tongue appealing
She's my malaprop baby
And she won't be refused
But when the sacred cows come home to roost
It’s better to switch than to fight
It's no pigment of my imagination
I'll be lovin’ that lady tonight
She's my malaprop baby
Her expressions collide
She's my malaprop baby
And she won't be denied
I'm so glad that she insisted
'cause like her words, this lady's twisted
She's my malaprop baby
And I'm lovin' the ride
Spare Me All The Bullshit Please (Mick Brady)
Well it may be just my time of life
It may be the moon and the tides
But there's a whole lot of things that really piss me off
Things I used to take in my stride
Now I don't want to sound like some cranky old bastard
But this is just the way that I feel
The bubble is burst, we're heading down the tubes
So spare me all the bullshit please
The H.S.E, O.M.G, W.T.F?
NAMA, FAS, the bank guarantee
Jesus wept!
Regulators, speculators, waste-of-spacers, second-raters
B.I.F.F.O.
Anglo Irish, Nationwide, the A.I.B.
I'm gonna have to talk to Joe
SIPTU, ICTU, IMPACT, IBEC
Jackie Healy Rae
Bertie, Beverly, Willy O'Dea
Every day is April Fool's Day
Expenses, pretenses, Bart Simpson defences
Five-star spoofers, stupid fools
Gombeens in limousines, God-damned philistines
The bold O'Donoghue
Now I don't want to sound like some cranky old bastard
But this is just the way that I feel
The bubble is burst, we're heading down the tubes
So spare me all the bullshit please
I'd Rather Be Me (Mick Brady)
I used to envy Elvis Presley
I wanted to be just like him
The way that he looked, the way he moved
The way that he could sing
But Elvis threw it all away
He went missing in The USA
And bit-by-bit I changed my mind
Decided I was more my kind
I’d rather be me, I’d rather be me
The only one I wanna be, I’d rather be me
Can’t be no-one else, I only want to be myself
And it suits me to a tee, I’d rather be me
There’s lots of guys who are far more wise
Than I could ever hope to be
Lots of fellas could make me jealous
Of all that they’ve achieved
But even though I’m way behind
And can’t catch up, I still don’t mind
‘Cos I’ve seen all I need to see
To know for sure who I’d rather be
I don't wanna be Bob Dylan
I don't wanna be The Boss
I'd just have to say 'No' to both those guys
If they asked me for a swap