(Introduce)
I don't want to stand on a 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...
(Part 1)
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's Johnny with a face like hammered 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.
(Part 2)
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 juke-box 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 lightin' her cigar.
A smoky 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
on the streets of Dublin.
On the streets of Dublin...
On the streets of Dublin...
On the streets of Dublin...