The Thatcher Song

Maggie thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all

She's the curse of the Irish nation fine Gael and Fianna Fáil

She's destroyed me hire-purchase and she's put me on the dole

If I could only get my hands on her, I'd kick her up the

Good Anya Mrs Thatcher, you're the cutest girl of all

Such a biddy fine and buxom sure the likes you'll not recall

When she holds negotiations, things they always reach a hitch

She's the world in ruination such a schemer the old

Good Anya Mrs Thatcher, no one in this world can match her

But she's trying to take the vote away from the paddies once again

We're not worried 'bout your English vote nor your politicians gas

You can keep them Mrs Thatcher, you can shove them up your

Help us Mrs Thatcher, with the prices rising high

And the work is getting awful scarce paddy's losing that's no lie

Now you say that you don't want us that we've stayed here long enough

But if I were a taxidermist I would tell you to get

Fair play Mrs Thatcher, sure you know a trick or two

And each time you come to Dublin well we know just what you'll do

You'll dress up in your finery and preach with all your might

But all of your fancy promises are just a load of

We love you Mrs Thatcher, like your old man loves his brew

Such a lad your husband Denis when he's had a sup or two

Sure he'll take a pint of porter and a glass of Irish mist

And because he faces you each night no wonder he gets

Thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all

She's the curse of the Irish Nation Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil