F C
oh , he doesn’t smell like irish spring ,
A# F
and he never taught me anything ,
A# F
but still i slap my chest and sing –
G C
of my drunken irish dad .
F C
oh , his face looks like a railroad map ,
A# F
and he never shuts his freakin’ trap . . .
A# F
but all the ladies catch the clap
G C
from your drunken irish dad .

A# A
ask a hennessey , tennessey , morrison ,
A#
shaughnessy , reardon , and rooney . . .
A
they’ll tell you the same
A# A
mcnulty , mulrooney , and connor and clooney ,
A# C
all feel the same mixture of pride and of
shame .

A# A
finnegan , hannigan , kelly , and flanagan .
A# A
look to the ground while their dad passes by
A# A
cafferty , rafferty , joyce and o’lafferty ,
A# C
fight for his honor and then start to cry!

F – C – A# – C – F – C – G – C F – C – A# – C – F – C – G – G – C

F C
oh , we irish lads are all infirm ,
A# F
and our moods infect us like a germ
A# F
’cause we’re all the spawn of a pickled sperm . . .

and we don’t tan well either .
G C F
from a drunken irish dad!!!