My Drunken Irish Dad lyrics

Peter:

Oh, he doesn't smell like Irish Spring

And he never taught me anything

But still I slap my chest and sing...

Of My Drunken Irish Dad.

Oh, his face looks like a railroad map,

And he never shuts his freakin' trap...

Mickey:

But all the ladies catch the clap

From your Drunken Irish Dad.

Peter:

Ask a Hennessey, Tennessey, Morrison, Shaughnessy, Riordan, and Rooney...

They'll tell you the same

McNulty, Mulrooney, and Cotter and Clooney

All feel the same mixture of pride and of shame.

Mickey:

Finnegan, Hannigan, Kelly, and Flanagan.

Look to the ground when their dad passes by

Cafferty, Rafferty, Joyce and O'Lafferty, fight for his honor and then start to cry!

Peter and Mickey:

Oh, we Irish lads are all infirm,

And our moods infect us like a germ

'Cause we're all the spawn of a pickled sperm...

Mickey:

And we don't tan well either.

Peter and Mickey:

...From a Drunken Irish Dad!!