Great lads may own great mansions with stately castles tall,
Or enjoy great social functions; an many a spacious hall.
But with all their pleasure, pomp or wealth I wouldn’t swap, machree,
For life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
I can’t indulge in sparkling wines; Jamacia’s rum or gin.
Though I am told that such are luxuries, enjoyed by other men.
With “Mountain Dew” from a “Poteen Still” I can’t go on the spree,
Still life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
A neatly-hooded motor I cannot steer alone,
Give me and Irish jaunting car and a donkey of my own.
And I’ll guage along the bridle-path, as happy as can be,
Then life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
New, catchy odes from music halls, I very seldom hear,
But the strain of an Irish melody to me is just as dear.
I love the “air” of “Skibbereen” and the “Cottage by the Lee”,
So life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
Keen critics say imported games are stylish and serene,
Though I never saw “Diabolo” playing on the village green.
A tussle with the hurley’s I always long to see,
And life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
Sweet blended flake on nice cigars, perchance I never smoke,
Or with ladies fair on tennis rinks, I never have a joke.
Give me a good Roscommon pipe with ho “43”,
And life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
I seldom read great Novelettes – which tell of earthly joys,
I rather have the “Mayo News” and a copy of Our Boys.
With the comforts of a big turf fire and Gra-gal machree,
so life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
Our native traits seems blighted, they’re tending to go West,
Through customs from far foreign lands, I really do detest.
With Harem styles and fashion plates, I never can agree,
Though life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
To Brian Boru or Sherlock Holmes no heritage I claim,
Or to figure heads who rise and fall on the pinnacles of fame.
But my hand is ready at the plough, my land I’m true to thee,
Whilst life in Derrykillew is good enough for me.
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