St. Stephen's Day - The Tossers

I stumbled into Merrion row to listen to a tune

I fought my way down Grafton by the rising of the moon

I sat on the floor of my poxy room just me and the BBC

Eating bachelors beans out of the tin there’s nothing here for me

And a rovin' you will go

You are not the one she wants

You are just a ghost

From an evening haunt

And a rovin' you will go

And you wish that she would stay

For now your day is empty and it’s just another day

I put my pen to paper but there’s nothin to be said

I might as well be in the desert with a turban on my head

I could go to Trader John’s or I could shower and could shave

I could go on up to Wicklow and throw a rose on Ronnie’s grave

I drank until my bones shook and gathered all my pay

I stood outside the locked up bar along the bachelors quay

I had absolutely forgotten that it was Christmas day

And now there’s nothing open and there’s nothing left to say

And it’s only Christmas day

And it’s just St. Stephen’s Day