I've a funny feeling it was eighty eight,
The sun never shone, the rain, never late.
We rented a house in the county of Clare,
For fun on the beach and lots of fresh air.
Two small city kids were some novelty
But for us it was nothing but child cruelty.
Cause there's one bloody thing I'll never forget
And thinking of it gives me a cold sweat.
Its staring out the car window not giving a fuck,
I'd have eaten the arse off a low flying duck.
We saw ruins and forts and chevaux de frises
And loads of old churches just lying in pieces.
But they're not the things that still give me the willies
As we sat dumb in the car like two mute silly billies.
We should have screamed loud and just smashed up our seat
Till our despot chauffeur would have admitted defeat
But me and my sister were such good mannered kids
And I've no doubt were bribed by the promise of quids,
Or at least a Club Orange from in the next shop,
Then had our face stuffed with a nice lollipop.
But it cant be right that your childhood's been stole
And the back seats been moulded by an eight year olds hole.
North, south, east and west we bumped over the roads,
I don't know the right distance but I'm sure it was loads.
To old men with no teeth and no toilet too,
We thought we'd been taken to some strange sort of zoo
And crusty old farmers living over the hills.
Jesus just thinking of it is giving me chills.
For days upon days and week after week,
It seems total weirdos was all that my father would seek
And then there's the graveyards with grass full of tics,
While my friends all at home went off to the flicks.
Tombs, headstones and plots of distant dead people,
The death knell of my childhood rang out from the steeple.
Family fucking trees, I could not care less,
When it causes young children so much god damn stress.
I really don't care if in eighteen 0 two,
Paddy Mc Flaherty died trying to poo.
I'm sure it was normal with diseases back then
So why look so backwards at these long dead men?
We're all here today and that's really what matters
And I guess my childhood's not quite in tatters.
So spending my summer with my mum and my dad,
I guess I am lucky and I should feel very glad.
'Cause when I'm old and grey with kids of my own,
I can show them this Tree and watch them as they moan
And I'm sure they wont care about my "old person" tales
Of graveyards and farmers and trips through the dales.
While they play on their X-Box and tweet with their mates
And at eight years of age probably going on dates.
We saw the last of old Ireland now long dead and past,
So I guess it was a pleasure cause those days went very fast.
