Two Hours After St. Patrick’s Day
Written by Mike Spicer and Pat Dooney
It’s amateur hour, it’s a criminal scene.
They toast the old country with a Leprechaun’s gleam.
And the redheads get prettier with every white lie,
but they keep saying, “Eat Shit and Die”.
Two hours after St. Patrick’s Day.
Now Maggie’s got pearls at the end of the bar,
I threw her a line but didn’t get very far.
She was more in to the back of the jar.
Two hours after St. Patrick’s Day,
two hours after St. Patrick's Day.
High, high, high.
High, lie, nie, nie, nie
Molly was always a good Catholic girl,
until her balloons came in.
Now I’m holding her hair back in a dark parking lot,
she’s ditching the corn beef and cabbage I bought.
The reasons I love her I quickly forgot.
Two hours after St. Patrick’s Day,
two hours after St. Patrick's Day.
So Molly’s in taxi and done for the night,
they’ve tipped them all over inside.
If I can’t get lucky I’ll go pick a fight.
Two hours after St. Patrick’s Day,
two hours after St. Patrick's Day.
I can’t find a fight and I can’t find a girl.
Old Clancy is closing the bar.
It’s amateur hour and I’ll start ringing the bell.
If you take me to heaven I’ll take you to hell.
If you truly are lucky you never could tell.
Two hours after St. Patrick’s Day,
two hours after St. Patrick's Day.
