Column

A ‘drinking’ song for our times

Kilkenny People columnist Gerry Moran has come up with a sing along for all those going through tough times as their local is locked down

Gerry Moran

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Gerry Moran

Gerry Moran

Gerry Moran

A ‘drinking’ song for these unprecedented times, which I dedicate to all drinking men (and women) who are missing, not just the drink, but their locals and the company and craic therein.
To the air of: ‘The Pub with No Beer’. Raise your can, and sing!

It’s lonesome these nights with the local locked down
Not a pint to be had, not a soul on the town
Sitting home with the missus, watching soaps on TV
When she knows bloody well where I’d much rather be
Yes, I’m missing my comrades, my buddies in booze
Who I love to talk sport with, slag off and abuse
’Cause that’s what the local is really all about
Bickering, and bonding, over black pints of stout
Not one single pint did I have Paddy’s night
Which didn’t seem normal, which didn’t seem right
No drowning the shamrock in whiskeys or beers
A first to be sure in my drinking years
Now we’d understand fully if the pub had no beer
But the barrels are brimming, we’re just not let near
It’s torture, it’s penance, we’re all fit to cry
’Cause this is no way to go on the dry
A few cans at home now is just not the same
Where you have to be PC, proper and tame
No cursing or swearing or dubious jokes
That can only be shared with a few boozed up blokes
Yes, that’s what I miss most – I miss the auld craic
Over lagers and ales and creamy pints of black
Miss the sing-song, the music, the recrimatations
The meeting of minds and the argumentations
And I miss the quiet nights, on me own in the bar
Doing the crossword or reading the Star
Miss my barwoman who listens to me moan
And helps make my local, a true home from home.
There’s no sport on the telly, and there won’t be till June
The wife used to hate it but she’s changed her tune
All sports now she welcomes, she really doesn’t care
Even tiddly-winks will do once I’m out of her hair
Yes, the wife’s gone all cranky, she’s pis…she’s fed up with me
Sitting dazed, and dysfunctional, on the settee
‘Self isolate’, she says, ‘self isolate tonight
Don’t give a damn where, once you’re out of my sight.’
And self-isolate I would, but here is the rub
I only will do it – in my local pub!
Not a hope in Jaysus, says you, and you’re right
We’ve a better chance of forming a government tonight
So, how will it all end - where, when and how
The experts don’t know - they argue and row
But when Covid’s all over and we’re back to good cheer
I’ll be running to the pub – to murder a beer!


Another virus!
Covid 19 may well be doing the rounds (and rapidly) but here’s a wee verse that’s been doing the rounds on Facebook. Timely, appropriate, humorous, it really is infectious. Enjoy.
Smiling is infectious
You catch it like the flu
When someone smiled at me today
I started smiling tooI passed around the corner
And someone saw my grin
When he smiled I realised
I’d passed it on to him
I thought about that smile
Then I realised its worth
A single smile, just like mine
Could travel round the earth
So, if you feel a smile begin
Don’t leave it undetected
Let’s start an epidemic quick
And get the world infected.
(Spike Milligan)

A pre-Covid Joke
Two pals, Jim and Jack, are sitting at the bar. After several drinks Jim turns to Jack and says: ‘Jack, I don’t think I can stick it anymore, I’m going to have to divorce the missus.’
‘Jeez, that’s terrible’, says Jack, ‘but why?’ ‘Sure she’s out every night of the week, and I mean every night, and doesn’t come home till well after midnight.’ ‘And what’s she up to?’, asks Jack. ‘She’s looking for me.’