Sodom & Begorra - Christy Moore

There’s Bethlehem and Cheltenham, Lourdes and Limerick Junction

Medjugorje or a rub of the extreme unction

Good people climb Croagh Patrick with serenity on their faces

But I found my salvation, below at the Galway Races

Clergymen dressed up like men and models home from London

Whallup and how’s she cuttin' John?

Begod sure only Middlin'

Gamblers with big wads of notes, going mad to gamble

Na boys' isteach as inverin, there just to take a ramble

Helen Lucy smells the mattress and reviews the hairy bacon

Says Mickey Finn to Galligan, hey Peter what are you takin'?

Shish kebabs, Kinvara crabs as people stuff their faces

Others couldn’t eat to save their lives below at the Galway Races

Its there you’ll see gentility and sheep dressed up like mutton

Double barrelled names with more airs than old melodeons

The talk is all of tillage and of silage and con acre

I tell you scraws and bottoms would be closer to the mark sir

Sir John Muck Savidge-Smythe is there with Smurfit’s and O’Reilly’s

Owners and trainers, stable boys and jockeys

With silk around their arses getting up on rich mens' horses

Not to mention wives and daughters and marriages and divorces

There’s pontoon, twenty five and there’s savage games of poker

There’s them would lay their lives on two flies walking up the wall sure

There’s wise men from the east making eyes at go-go dancers

And ministers of state accepting drinks from terrible chancers