Robbie:
I don't want to stand
on the stage with a sword.
I went to a pantomim once.
I was bored.
I'm not a poetical sort of a person like you.
When I need a poem,
the sreets and the gutters will do.

There's Tommy Flanagan who lights the gas lamps-
A hundred ninty lamps in Phoenix park alone.
He's done it drunk for over fifty-seven years
In Dublin!

And down on Henry street is Mad John Maher-
Old ramblin' Johnny with a face like hammer meat!
But Johnny's singin' brings a Dublin man to tears.

I don't know
The words to tell you how it feels
or how to put it in a rhyme,
but if you come with me you'll know
How the lamps in the park
look like god in the dark
as they glow
on the streets of Dublin

The dealers hawkin' and the dockers yellin'
the buskers bangin' and the ragmen ringin' bells,
and there's Maureen whose door is always open for
All Dublin!

And Tony Kiely with his racing pigeons.
It's like religon how he lives to fly those birds-
He swears they travel for a hundred miles or more.

I don't know
The kind of words that you might say
but I can put it my own way,
and if you come with me you'll know
that thoses birds on the wing
are a beautiful thing
as they blow
through the streets of Dublin

And there's music like nothin' you've heard
if you know the right jukebox to play!
There are glasses to raise in the praise
of survivin' the day...

Down where
Miss Kitty Farrelly is pourin' whiskey
and Frankie Donahughe is lighting her cigar.
A smokey den where workin' men don't bring the wife...

It's the laughter of fellas with stories to tell,
men who love to get drunk and raise true feckin' hell!

Ah, you come out with me and you'll see what you're missin' in life

On the Streets of Dublin
On the Streets of Dublin
On the Streets of Dublin
On the Streets of Dublin