Sing Danny Boy, the drunks, the drunks are calling.
From pub to pub, my protests were denied.
I protest hard, yet now I am complying
Tis they that fill my hat so I abide.

Call me a hack, but I’d rather sing a disco.
Or listen to a third grade talent show.
But I must eat, and pay rent on my condo.
So Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I “love” you so.

And as you watch, you’ll see my spirit dying.
I’ll sing the song, though dead the song might be.
When I say I love the song; I’m lying,
Please still kneel, and leave some cash for me.

And I shall smile, as coins they shower around me.
And my abode will warmer, sweeter be,
I’ll pay my bills, with music that confounds me,
And this song’s allure will always puzzle me.

© 2005, Kevin McClear