| Bridie was teachin' out in Carysfort
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| I was workin' in the bank
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| 2 paycheques every Friday
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| And a Morris Minor out the back
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| But I was mad for jigs and reels
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| Drinkin' dirty big pints of stout
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| When the Bank of Ireland gave me the boot
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| They said «Don't let the door hit your arse, on the way out.»
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| Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
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| I was born to play the funky ceili
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| Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
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| Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
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| Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
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| Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
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| I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
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| Without me punky funky ceili
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| Bridie broke down and started to bawl
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| When I told her about me divorce from the bank
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| She said «I've got news of me own, a stor,
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| I’m 2 months late, it’s not with the rent»
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| She said I’d have to be tellin' her Da
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| So we drove the Morris Minor to Cork
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| The ould fella said «You've got two choices,
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| Castration, or a one way ticket to New York!»
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| Oh Bridie, what can I do girl
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| Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
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| I was born to play the funky ceili
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| Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
|
| Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
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| Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
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| I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
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| Without me punky phunky funky ceili
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| So here I am up on Bainbridge Avenue
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| Still in one piece but glad I’m alive
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| Drinkin' dirty big glasses of porter
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| Playin' me jigs and me reels and me slides
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| Think of you, Bridie, whenever I’m sober
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| Which isn’t too often, I have to confess
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| Take good care of the Morris Minor
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| Bad luck to your Da
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| And give the baby a great big kiss…
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| From his Daddy in the Bronx
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| Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
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| I was born to play the funky ceili
|
| Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
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| Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
|
| Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
|
| Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
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| I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
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| Without me punky phunky funky ceili
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| Oh Bridie, I’m still crazy about you, girl
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| Does the baby look like me, Bridie?
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| Has he got red hair and glasses?
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| Oh, Bridie, sell the Morris Minor
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| Come on out to America, girl
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| The pubs never close over here
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| I’ve got a palace up on Bainbridge Avenue
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| I’ve got the biggest bed in the world, girl,
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| We can stay in it and make babies forever
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| Oh Bridie
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| Oh Bridie |