Sons of Southern Ulster

No lipstick on my collar

Just piss on my shoes

it's this kinda shit that

gives a young man the blues

For the love of Jesus


​​Twenty four pounds

That was the prize

The fruit machine in the Pop Inn

Where you covered your chips

in sauce red and brown

The Pop Inn


A steady drizzle on a half day Wednesday

Hardly a sinner up the town

And a cold cold wind blows down

From the mountain, from Loch an Leagh

The Sons of Southern Ulster

Later, later when the laughter stops

and the darkness descends

he punches holes in walls

and roars like a bull

for dead fathers and lost loves

that withered and died on the vine

for the want of a drop of rain, or a ray of sun

Cavan Cola