"Out on the road, it's dark and it's cold,"
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said my mother as she passed by.
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"You'll never stick it long enough.
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You're a fool to even try.
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You've gone off with a band of men, all addicts, skites, and bums.
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So you think you will enjoy your life in the tenancy and the slums."
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Tur ra la, tu ra la, tu ra la, li.
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Out on the road is where your Uncle died.
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Tur ra la, tu ra la, tu ra la, li.
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I have no time for you on the road.
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"Playing music ain't no way to live.
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It's hungry, cold, and slack.
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And if you walk out that door my Son,
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well, you won't be coming back."
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But it's down the pub, all my friends are there.
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And there's no place that I'd rather be.
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So, you think this life will engulf me?
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Well I'll tell you we'll just wait and see.
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So I kissed my tearful Father at the door and I left him there.
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With five bottles of Bushmill's and two on my chair.
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We set out for the county Clare.
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And it's Ceili's jigs and booze in Killrush.
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Dooneed can be quite a thrill,
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and I won't come back 'till I've made my name,
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until I have had my fill.
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-----------------
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Out On The Road
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The Tossers |