Tobacco stained fingers press down on heavy strings.

The crowd stares back in anger as the drunken singer sings.

A whiskey bottle hangs from his hands, breath an alcoholic mist.

Sweat and abuse, and all his truths. Now everybody’s pissed.

Paddy Django strums his banjo. Penny whistle fills the air

A violin jumps in quickly. The pianist couldn’t care

Rude boys and girls are doing twirls. Eileen’s feet are off the ground

The punks are river dancing. Going round and round.

Hugh grabs a shy wall flower. Pulls her onto the floor.

At first she showed reluctance. But now she’s wanting more.

Tonight the stout is flowing out. The smell of hormones and desire.

The singers words speak of a cause. The tempos getting higher.

Dance with me tonight Eileen. Don’t look the other way

I’ll come home to meet your mammy, if you let me get my way.

Ignore these drunken arseholes. All vagabonds and rogues

I’m here in Camden town tonight. A roadie with the Pogues.