The worst of it is over. Everybody tries to sober up From yesterday's parades and last night's fake, drunk, Celtic pride. It's a mass inebriation, like a frat boy celebration, Leaving every real Irishman a little dead inside, Dodging puddles of green glitter vomit, Tons of trash with shamrocks on it, And all the cheap, green plastic crap a bar can give away. It's the Sunday after the Saturday Immediately following the actual calendar date of St. Patrick's Day. I hate the Sunday after the Saturday Immediately following the actual calendar date of St. Patrick's Day. Erin Go Bragh her tank top said, Erin went braless was more like it, With her mouth all stained from green beer dye, looked like she blew the Hulk. And his Abercrombie collar poking out from under his four dollar Kiss Me shirt and Guinness beads they gave away in bulk. They did jello shots of Jameson and 'Irish car bombs' just for fun, And laughed when the green puke stains didn't show up on their shirts. On the Sunday after the Saturday Immediately following the actual calendar date of St. Patrick's Day. I hate the Sunday after the Saturday Immediately following the actual calendar date of St. Patrick's Day. Who's gonna clean this mess up? What does this say about us? If Patrick saw this, he'd ban us and keep the snakes...
The FuMP
2017-03-10
I'd never been happy with the final version of this song from my Red Letters album, so I went back and reworked it, adding in a bit of the "singalong" vibe that happens when I perform it live, and a bit of the mumbling of the words that I do when describing how people will end up singing the song anyway. You have a little over a week to prepare for the Sunday, so get to it (and steer clear of green beer!)
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