Back In The Country Hell

Well oh well I'm back in the County Hell

I just flew in and my arms they feel like hell

I'm so glad to be back in the County Hell

I missed the smack, I missed the crack,

I missed the killings too

I missed the London Irish girls

But especially missed you

The USA never fails to make me blue

Put me in charge I'd execute the Artistic Queers

And all the fuckin' bastards that drink trendy Irish beers

My death squads would be kids from flats

All high from sniffing glue

I'd use them to kill rich Brits

And the journalistic whores

The park bench Aristocrats

Are drinking in the park

And the junkies are still sneaking

In for fix up after dark

And Jock laid out on his park bench

Like it was his home settee

Singin' like a fallen angel Me and Bobby McGee

When I've done my patriotic chore

And burnt London to the ground

I'll go back home to Nenagh

And get pissed every night in town

Like the ol' folks say,

You can't keep a good man down

And the park bench Aristocrats

Still drinking in the park

The junkies are still sneaking in

For fix up after dark

Jock's still laid out on his park bench

Like it was his own settee

Singing like a fallen angel

Me and Bobby McGee

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose

Nothin ain't worth nothin if ain't free

Feelin good was easy Lord when Bobby sang the blues

Feelin good was good enough for me

Good enough for me and Bobby McGee