Stephen Lynch - Down to the old pub instead

^GLad, it's your duty to ^Dfind ye a lass With ^Cchild-bearing hips and a ^Dpink, supple ass And ^Gmake her your wife and ^Dlove her with ^Clove so ^Dtrue Now some ^Grivers run high, some ^Drivers run low When her ^Criver runs red, then she's ^Dstarting her flow And it's ^Gcalled menstr'ation, and ^Dhere's what it ^Cmeans to ^Dyou

You will ^Emnotice her bloomers are ^Cspotty at first Stand ^Gback -- her ovarian ^Ddam's gonna burst Son, ^Emdon't be afraid, it's a ^Cnatural t'ing Just ^Gwad up some cotton and ^Dhand her some string ^CPut the old linens on top of the bed Get ^Cout of the house and go ^Ddown to the ^Gold pub ins^Dtead^{C D}

She'll ^Gretain her water, her ^Dbreasts will be tender And ^Cevery third word that you ^Dsay will offend her Get ^Gout of the house and go ^Ddown to the old pub ^Cinstead ^D And she'll ^Gwant to make love -- if you ^Ddo, you're a fool 'Cause you'll ^Conly end up with a ^Dbloody O'Toole Get ^Gout of the house – ^Ddown to the old pub ^Cinstead^D

And she'll ^Emwant you to sample the ^Cfruit of her loins But ^Gson, it'll taste like some ^Dold rusty coins So ^Emturn off the light, boy, and ^Ctake off your hat And ^Gdrop to your knees, say a ^Dprayer to Saint Pat Then he'll ^Cgive you the strength to get out of the bed And for ^CIreland's sake, go ^Ddown to the old pub ^Ginstead ^{D C D}

Now the ^Empub is the place where the ^Clads are a-meetin' ^GWhen the moon's full and the ^Dgals are a-bleedin' The ^EmCatholic, the Protestant, ^Ceven the pagan The ^Gpub is the place when your ^Dlady is raggin' So ^Cdrink of your pint, boys, and thank your shamrocks That as ^Cmenfolk we don't have to bleed from our cocks And that ^Cwe can escape from the lady in red And get ^Cout of the house and go ^Ddown to the old pub