by Willie Finucane, Knockanure
Have you ever been to a pub me lads or have you felt that way?‘Tis nice to have a pint or two to pass the time of day.
Oh if at night ’tis sure delight you bid your thirst to cure,
But watch the clock or you’ll see the dock like the night in Knockanure.
Now the last few hours of sixty-seven were fleeing mighty fast,
As we did join in Auld Lang Syne though we hadn’t that much cash.
Our heads were light, our spirits high, the fun was fresh and pure,
Oh little we thought that we were sought at Flynn’s in Knockanure.
Now the alarm went at 10 o’clock, a warning time you see,
The barman shouted at the door “Ten minutes more of glee”.
But as the clock ticked on me boys ’twas twenty past for sure,
When through some lane came Garda Kane to Flynn’s of Knockanure.
“Account for those men, the time is past,” his voice came through the door
We stood like ghosts beside our host our feet stuck to the floor.
Then nice and mute Flynn spoke the truth, of that you can be sure,
“But for the song they would be gone and left old Knockanure”.
But ’twas all in vain, this mighty Kane was having the last word,
With pencil and with notebook out he started chewing the curd,
We gave our names quite willingly as we “had no other cure,
And if song is crime we’ll pay the fine in the Valley of Knockanure.
Oh a Happy New Year to all the police from here to Templemore,
To your Sergeants and inspectors and all ranks of your Peaceful Corps;
May you banish all crime to the end of time and keep us well secure,
But we’ll never forget being caught in the net at Flynn’s of Knockanure.
Oh here’s to all Kanes a long living name from the very beginning of time,
You are linked with the death of Abel, you started that capital crime.
If that Guard gets a stripe I hope ’tis no gripe and the doctor may him cure,
As he wont be paid till a Sergeant he’s made for his raid on Knockanure.
And should he return again to the Cross and we meet him face to face,
As man to man we’ll sing this song as it is no disgrace,
With a Cead Mile Failte we’ll welcome him and we hope he don’t act poor,
For if he’d not come no song would be sung of his raid on Knockanure.
May he rise in bars and stripes, may he wed a charming wife,
All Heaven’s blessings sure may he endure,
Now there’s peace talks with Saigon, they’re still bombing Vietnam,
But we’re hoping for a truce in Knockanure.
Now in Tarbert Court a nice resort Maguire threw in the ball,
Guard Kane was first to break away he kicked it with the fall.
But Flavin Mick he done the trick with a daring save for sure,
And when Reilly caught he drove it back, ’twas cheers for Knockanure,
His clearance went to Flynn me lads, the Cordal man is tall,
He fielded high above their heads and soloed with the ball,
From thirty five ’twas a mighty drive, it ripped the net for sure,
Oh ’twas pot luck as the cobwebs shook in the Valleys of Knockanure.
Now Garda Kane will have to train to get to senior file,
He hasn’t the dash of Mick Dwyer nor Sergeant Sheehy’s style.
Nor Acton’s swerve nor Truhy’s nerve that touched the rich and poor,
Oh the like’s of that team will never be seen in the Valleys of Knockanure.
Oh to all you young Guards I give my regards, may I coach you with this rhyme
If you learn to sell the dummy your scores will come in time;
If the going is rough just play it tough and take things mighty cool,
And we’ll call it a draw within the law in the valleys of Knockanure.
Oh to all who were fined I can’t leave behind, may you get a lifelong span,
Till your whiskers and beard grow down to your heels and be tied with a Black Velvet Band,
May a Bill in the fall be rushed through the Dail ending the clocks for sure,
And we’ll sing this score when time is no more in the Valleys of Knockanure.
