KISS ME BLARNEY STONES The 90 minute World Record song and video:
Behold, a 90 minute song that has been sent to Guinness Book Of World Records for verification. This Irish themed opus is 136 verses long and chocked full of comedic, bawdy lyrics and is sure to please. From NOOJ, the creator of Brewkah Assault, this ballad stanza song is his gift to humanity and just in time for St. Patricks Day 2012.
Be sure to tell all your friends to listen and to...KISS ME BLARNEY STONES
BEHOLD! All 136 verses of the World Record Song
KISS ME BLARNEY STONES
The World Record Song
Written, Composed and Performed by Mike Nugent
Co-written & Performed by Ted Rypel and The Pop Tarts
Why don’t you kiss me blarney stones, go kiss me blarney stones
Stones are the things that help to make a man a man
But blarney stones are different they define the man I am
They're always at their best when held in a lass's hands….
Or dangling over the water when I'm squatting in the can!
Is that a shillelagh in your pants or are you glad I'm here?
I see you must be proud because your grin goes ear to ear.
As long as it stays put, I see no need to fear….
Just drink a few more beers the boy will quickly disappear!
With her lovely, large potatoes I wish Erin's bragh would go
Oh to see them bouncin', see 'em swingin' to and fro.
If up to me I'd set them free then everyone would know….
Tis Erin's bragh what's holding them or they up there on their own?
Place your lips upon me flute and blow a gentle breeze
Or if you like a squealing pipe then give my bag a squeeze
Your fingers on my organ might be fun if you can play….
Or maybe we should try the drums and bang the night away!
My jangler likes to dangle when I wade through Dingle Bay
But the chilly waters makes me laddy wee and hide away….
It's not a time I'd like a lass to see me in the buff….
She'd point and laugh and tell her friends "That's clearly not enough!"
I've met that special lass I need to turn around my claddagh
We met last night after 10 pints I know not much about 'er
But what I've learned has made me sure and left me with no doubt-ah….
She drinks Guinness and loves pennis of both she'll get a lotta!
Your ma won't let me see you. Says your clover is too green
She says she doesn't trust me, doesn't know where I have been
I'm just a simple plumber there's no reason to be mean….
I'll come over with my tool and give HER pipes a clean!
I've shaved my private cabbage 'cause me lassy likes me shorn
As clean and smooth as a new baby boy that's just been born
She doesn't like those rings and things some lads use to adorn….
And I agree 'cause boy I'd scream if something there got torn!
I've had too many pints I need to fill your pot with gold
I must admit it happens more often now that I'm old
Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this but why not, I'll be bold….
When I return I'll tell you if the water in there is cold!
I'm off to County Mayo to ketchup with my clan
I've mustard up the courage to join an Irish band
If chili I don't relish the thought of playing out….
We may book the Octoberfest and play for saur krauts!
You ought to see the rise I get when Sue makes soda bread
The smell awakes me often from me drunken Irish bed
Although her cooking is the best I wish one thing instead….
She teach herself to draw a pint and give me perfect head
Dexy's Midnight Runners sang a song about Eileen
Clad in overalls the spawn of ole Mister Green Jeans
They tried and tried but fell into that one-hit wonder trap….
But thank the Lord above who needs anymore of their crap!
My skin is pure as snow a smooth but freckled pasty white
My orange curlies shine on like a beacon in the night
With all this going for me though, it hurts to have the rap….
The dreaded curse there's nothing worse than Irish mushroom cap.
A lovely lass with curls always tightens up my pants
A twisty, flowing, gorgeous mane is better than implants
If tight and colored bright red-orange it heightens my desire….
Unless she has a barrel ass then just call me a liar
I met a lad the other day bit of a fruity twinkie
His wrist was limp, dressed flamboyant, drank tea with pointed pinkie
He said “I love Lord Of The Dance, the men I always watch….
When I see Michael, flatly don’t describe my trousers crotch
Declan likes to wear green socks, green shoes, green pants, green shirt,
Green hat, green coat, green scarf and gloves. Green undies never hurt.
But when he lies down in green grass after a day long binge….
The yellow and the brown begin to seep out from within
I’m Irish so I sometimes use my fists before I think
It may be if I’m angry or I’ve had too much to drink
So if I land a sucker punch don’t think I’m tough or mean….
My fighting style has been likened to that of a drag queen
Long overdue so may I introduce myself to you?
I go by "Nooj" or "Mike" or "Mailman". Other things I do
A show "Brewkah Assault", band "Sight Unseen" also a "wife"….
How pathetic 8 words sums up my entire life.
Last nights 15 pints has me wishing I was dead
No work for me it's clear to see I shouldn't leave me bed
Except for maybe me making a mad dash for the head….
To offload last nights mix of corned beef hash and soda bread
There's an Irish lad on the show Dancing With The Stars
Was burdened with that Nancy Grace as big as some small cars
They say "Be kind. She's older and we should cut her some slack"….
But I say "Why? Let's be like her and go on the attack."
I knew a lass named Molly, she did not know how to dress
Didn't know how to emphasize her voluptuous breasts
Although devoid of fashion sense there's one thing she did best….
Even with heavy hangers she would “err 'n' go bra”-less
I’ve sung so many lyrics now it’s time to share the wealth
You’ve heard enough from silly me let’s hear from someone else
I’ve asked some friends and bands and more “Create your own lyrics”….
So coming next are Cleveland’s best to share their Irish kicks
A 60’s girls tribute group is next to take the mic
They go by the name Pop Tarts and me think you're gonna like
They were not shy and wrote quite a few verses next you'll hear….
Try a game; During their set polish off 7 beers.
The PopTarts are a band of Girls each one a fine colleen
With vinyl hats and Go Go Boots the best you've ever seen.
Now Nooj is such a hooligan his lilting brogue did win us….
So we're adding verses to his song so it will get in Guinness!
Have you found your Pot of Gold? No further need ye seek!
Come check out the PopTarts, there’s at least one gig a week
Follow that Fruity Rainbow of four voices in a chorus….
After a pint or two, you’ll find you can’t help but adore us!
Cherry kept a tidy home, she'd scrub and scour daily
She'd bring her man his slippers, pipe and polish his shillelagh
Now she's so busy singing, smoking hookahs, drinking brew….
Tho' she'll confess "'Tis Manly Yes, But I Like it, too".
In July it was decided Nooj should be a Meaty Tart
We guessed he would be flattered to take this cherished part
He suggested Cabbage, but we all thought that was nasty….
Honored, esteemed, he has been deemed a Tarty Irish Pastie
Would you rather have an Irish pastie or a Tart of Meat?
One is for the commoner, the other more elite
The former fried and functional – it’s sealed up to be dropless….
The latter sweet and savoury, and very often topless!
Walkin’ with me bitch again, as daily we must do
Up ahead to my delight, I spy the gorgeous Ku
Me Dogo, lacking manners, as much as me bemoans….
Nudges her snout and gives a clout to Johnny’s Blarney Stones
Skipping down a country road , moobs tossing to and fro
The leprechaun considers: To pub or gym should he go?
Pints are traded in for pounds, the barstool for the bench….
Soon rock hard abs and pecs, buttocks in a permanent clench
Rumor 'round the glen is Friar Nooj fears he is flabby
He's posted it on Facebook and he’s yelled it in the Abbey
No longer drinking ale and stout, with weights he slims and tones….
B'gosh I've even heard he's working out his Blarney Stones!
You Pop Tarts, well you're havin' fun you know just what you do
But this Irish man is Irish mad! I'm in an Irish stew!
My moobs and cottage cheese are mine. Mine and mine alone….
Once they leave, the girls you see, will crave me Irish bone
My name is Sweet Green Apple Tart my fruit grows on a tree
But like the Bible says "I forbid you taste of me"
You will just have to listen and adore me from afar….
Or come see us perform around town at your local bar
My name is Very Cherry Tart with bright red gorgeous lips
I use them when I sing our songs or if I need a nip
You must know I'm the best the color red heightens desire….
Just send me your email I'll send you a Pop Tarts flier
I am Wild Blueberry Tart go heavy on the wild
When I put on my gogo boots it makes the laddies smile
The way I sing and sway and for you this tart has all the moves….
I'll have you singing about me, I'll have you singing Blue!
My name is Luscious Lemon Tart my taste it is the best
That's why it's used in cakes and pies and many drink requests
The other Tarts are cute and all but choose me, you'll be glad….
They named a car law after me cuz I can be sooooooooo bad
USPS it is the best I always get me stuff
Yet thus I pout, I know me route is tedious and tough
Me Posties are my heroes, and when they have had enough….
Below they go, to have a puff of soothing Hookah snuff
I want to thank The Pop Tarts tell me they weren't worth the wait
But coming up next is a lad who's lyrics take the cake
The author known as Ted Rypel, T.C. Rypel to some….
This talented wordsmith with clever lyrics is me chum
If you deplore all Gaelic lore, St. Paddy's you disdain,
McTales of yore are just a bore, and lim'ricks are a pain.
The boys and me, we all agree, and raise this toast to you….
Tradition says there's just one cure: We'll tell you what to do.
B'gosh, me lass, ye dance with class, you flit upon the air!
Your River Dance---par excel-LANCE! But lassie, have a care:
This is a rowdy pub, and though for now you do the jig….
You're likely doomed to wake and see the sun rise with a pig.
The Green folk and the Orange, they have seen me island wracked
For doctrines they would kill and maim methinks both sides are wacked.
Their dogmas bear a fatal flaw, they both believe, in fact….
That oral sex is nothin' more than talkin' 'bout the act!
I met a sweet Kilkenny gal, and Lord, was I in luck
A face and form like faery-maids; the lads were thunderstruck
But when she joined my Irish band, at first, 'twas nip-'n'-tuck….
She couldn't bow me fiddle but---begorrah!---she could pluck!
I'm Bailey, down from County Cork, I'm here but for a week
You plucky lass, I understand the exploits that you seek
But though you yearn for far-off lands; of sweet romance you dream….
You've never sighed until you've tried this Bailey's Irish Cream
The tourists come a-gapin' at the roarin' Irish sea,
They gasp about the beauty of the Roses of Tralee
But Lord, it's in the taverns that they note, amazedly….
You've missed the sights until you've seen an Irishman go pee.
I rode to Offaly County, for a Gaelic football match
I spied a rugger-hugger, from behind she seemed a catch
Alas, the Sheila's eyes were crossed; her voice, it bore no lilt….
I hardly took a notice, boy-o---she was Offaly built!
They say it's long to Tipperary, wide is Galway Bay
The span of one's shillelagh can be meant more than one way
Now, I'm descended from Longfellow---I know what you'll say….
Since you'll just think I'm yakkin' off, me modesty says, "Nae!"
"A drunkard is a dead man"---yea!---"and all dead men are drunk!"
Wrote poet Willie Butler Yeats, while drunker than a skunk
I know the truth---romanced a Sheila, swayed her toward the bunk….
I tossed back one last nightcap, tipped me hat, and went KERPLUNK!
The Irish love the fiddle, and the fiddle loves the dance
I am a middlin' fiddler, ask the griddler---see her glance?
I fancy she might diddle with this fiddler, or perchance….
I'll just end up alone in a self-twiddlin' circumstance
You British peerage think us an embarrassment; you frown
We drink and fight and take delight in women who go down
We humbly seek atonement, and we'll tell you what we’ll do….
Give Ireland back to the Irish, we'll return your wives to you
I met a lass while plastered, and I thought her name Colleen
All warm and moist and sad-eyed, but me mates they made a scene
They dunked me head and, laughing, said, "Before you think to snog….
Your 'Colleen' is a 'collie', yes, she's Lassie, lad---a dog!"
Oul Grace O'Malley was a 15th-cent’ry pirate queen
With Swift and Joyce and Wilde, we stole the literary scene
I'd have some more to tell you, but I focused princip'ly….
On Mary Dugan's diddies in 8th-period History
I showed her Beasts of Fable I had conquered in me quests
She eyed them with disinterest, but at last she seemed impressed:
"Of all these captive wonders, sir, I'll take your Unicorn….
For nothing suits my fancy like a proud, extended horn."
The sun was hot as devils' farts; I took a river dip
A village cop arrested me for bathin' in the nip
The lady judge said, "Boy-o, I could toss you behind bars!"….
I asked the court for mercy---in her hands I placed me arse
This Irish rogue Mike Nugent he’s a givin’ me the glare
Me golden, lilting vocals have monopolized his air
And though me brilliant lyrics are a damn sight far from done…
I’ll cede their vocalizing to the Celt’s least favorite son
Well Ted I want to thank you for graciously stepping back
Allowing me to give your verses my own Irish crack
Your genius is quite evident and surely stands alone….
But who the hell are you to tell Nooj kiss YOUR blarney stones?
The common misconception is, an Irishman's a sot
He guzzles Irish whiskey, stout, and ale by the pot
Said poet Brendan Behan, after giving it some thought….
"I drink on two occasions: when I'm thirsty; when I'm NOT."
Me tavern-keeper posts a sign: "Ta failte, one and all!
You've come to the right pub to fair carouse and have a ball
To drink with mates, to lube your dates, as prelude to romance….
But if you're drinkin' to forget, then please pay in advance!"
The sport of pubs is not the darts, it is bare-knuckled fights
They'll prod and poke and fair provoke and then punch out your lights
The legacy runs deep---McLaglen, Cagney and John Wayne….
But fantasize 'bout Glynis Johns, and that'll ease your pain
Some critics wince and point to Irish culture's Mulligan stew
Potato famine, bagpipe wailing, keening at funerals, too
The pookah horse, the banshee, and old Mrs. O'Leary's cow….
I can't condemn 'cuz now and then I've mounted me a sow
The lady was from Melbourne, so I took her on a tour
From Blarney Stone to Malin Head, we scoured the island, sure
She said, "If I don't pay you back, I would be quite remiss"….
Since she was from Down Under, I said, "Show me an Aussie kiss."
A poet said the Irish are "the men that God made mad,
For all their wars are merry"---aye!---"and all their songs are sad."
While "Irish Eyes Are Smilin'" and with "Danny Boy" in tears….
It's good that there's another port for tossin' down these beers!
John Tyndall, so it's said, discovered why the sky is blue
The Celts left us with Hallowe'en, when everyone yells, "Boo!"
St. Paddy shooed the snakes away; I know just where they went….
I'm booin' their blue noses---they're the English Parliament
Erin, me lass, I loved your class, you made a sweet colleen,
A shamrock midst the thistles-ripest rose that's ever been
Too bad about your dyin', girl, I wish I'd never seen….
Your patriotic noggin, colored orange, white and green
To kiss the Blarney Stone you bend o'er backward while they grab
Your ankles, then you plant a hopeful pogue upon that slab
It's nice to have assistance, but I know one day I'll try….
To bend and grab 'em solo when I kiss me arse goodbye
"I hope to get to Heaven 'fore the Devil knows I'm dead,"
I've quoted to me Heather; she's another plan, instead:
(The Devil's had no dealin' with this devilish redhead)….
He'll search the road to Heaven, but I'll be in Heather's bed
Last New Year's I was in me cups, me blessings I embraced
I reminisced me hallowed life with longing I could taste
Me mem'ries all came flooding back, me lifetime spending traced….
Ninety-percent on women and drink, the rest just went to waste.
Mine eyes'll sparkle, gazin' at an impish scalawag
My lamps go moist, uh seein’ Ireland's proud tri-colored flag
Me orbs'll goggle at a lass who's red-eyed and green-haired….
Oops---too many pints, and now me vision is impaired!
From DARBY O'GILL we’ll learn a bit ‘o’ Celt mythology
(Although it stars that bloody famous Scot Sean Connery)
Those leprechauns will steal and hoard, like looters, your effects….
They'll swipe the rubber Johnny off your gooter during sex
Me Da, he is a sergeant, and me brothers pound their beats
A more upstandin' clan o' lawmen never stalked the streets
Meself, I go pub-crawlin'---do me kinfolk live in shame?….
They'll join me once they're off the paddy wagon---they're the same!
The cabbage crops are failin', and me wife, she is a nag
The heathens all are jeerin' at our bright Creamsicle flag
The leprechauns are thievin', and the rain keeps pourin' down….
You see my woes are many, but there's nothin' beer can't drown
The pastor deemed it "Sacrilege!" The critic cried, "A Flop!"
The scholar called it "Odious!" "It's Filth!" spat Mrs. Hopp.
I scratched me head and winced at what they'd trodden on that site….
Whatever words we dress it in, it's still a pile ‘o' shite.
St. Paddy's Day did find me out paradin' in me kilt
For lack of undergarment, I shall ever live in guilt
'Twas not the dancin' or the ale---a gust ‘o’ wind's to blame….
Me langer stood in full salute, me yockers hung in shame
I found a tasty recipe for Irish Shepherd’s pie
It may not fit a stanza, but it’s yummy so I’ll try
Potatoes, carrots, butter, sour cream, parsley and thyme….
Chopped onion—oops! I’m out of space; at least I cooked this rhyme
You see Ted was prolific but one thing he needs to know
That when it comes to this song THIS lad's the star of the show
So now the verses leave Ted and we're strictly back to Nooj….
I hate to break the news but this song's barely halfway through
The recipe for Shepherds Pie this time I’ll make it fit
2 tablespoons of butter, chopped onion, 2 sliced carrots
Some cream flo-ur, parsley and thyme, 1 pound of cooked minced beef….
Browning stock, potatoes and Dubliner Irish Cheese
My friends know I'm afraid to fly, call me a silly dingus
So I thought I might conquer fear hop a flight, Aer Lingus
Aboard I met a lass with guile and cunning and the thing is….
Now me fear is licked I nicknamed her my Cunning Lingus
I laid eyes on a lass thought her the one, her name? Flora
I thought she was until I laid eyes on gorgeous Laura
But now I am not sure since I laid eyes on sweet Maura….
I hope I get laid by all 3, Sure and begorrah
Ted Rypel my writer friend has quite the way with words
I try to match his skills alas, they drop like sonic turds
But now this Irish lad's inspired may I give it a go?….
supercalifragilisticexpialido.........................cious
So many style of caps which is the best is tough indeed
There’s Herringbone and Houndstooth and me favorite Harris Tweed
It may sound silly but to lure a lass into your bed….
Often times depends upon the tam upon your head
Have you seen the wigs worn by those Irish dancing girls?
They’re lovely and they’re loaded with lots of those nice tight curls
To do the jig you need the wig so I’m willing to share….
Me tight bright orange curlies gathered from me underwear
T'was once an Irish butcher, he loved to ply his craft
Loins and chops for moms and pops he wrapped them in the kraft
Said to a buxom lass that strolled in for a meaty treat….
"Step behind the counter for some meat that can't be beat"
Ireland or Eire we call her The Emerald Isle
The Isle of Saints and Scholars 32,000 square miles
Her highest point Carrauntoohil and dad is pronounced “da”….
My info must be correct it’s from Wikipedia
The lassies melt like candles when they hear me Irish brogue
They’ll fight and slap to fill my lap just like a puppy dog
So many fine young beauties I’ll be leaving in a fog….
After I find that one sure bet that wants to flog my log
A lady likes a scented lad so use your Irish Spring
Bi-weekly baths will please your lass and make her nostrils sing
So give a scrub, a nice good rub to your wee little thing….
Or she’ll stay clear and won’t go near your stinky ding-a-ling
With all this blarney that I've spread it's time I pen a verse
About the shame of Irish males it's called The Irish Curse
When lasses ask to see "IT" we know it is a trap….
They want to have a giggle at wee wigglin' mushroom cap
I think it's time this Irish lad go trace his family tree
I guess the place that I should start is go talk with mommy
I should have paid attention when she told me in the past….
'Bout all our cousins names and such. I can be such an ass
Some lads have full fledged Blarney Stones, some lads have jelly beans
Some lads have tiny berries, some lads somewhere in between
But size of stones don't make the man it's what is deep within….
The size just gives you more to rest upon a lass's chin
I hope you've recognized the fact my song is tongue-in-cheek
Irish myself. Proud of the fact. Our humor is unique.
Self-deprecation is a tool I use to write the verse….
Don't feel the need to bust me "heed" and dump me in a hearse
Cleveland teams they crush me dreams, fill my face w/frowns!
The Cavaliers, the Indians, and yes the orange and brown.
Years of loss, no championship sure does take its toll….
And sure as shit you'll never see the Browns at Super Bowl!
I used to go to concerts where they packed 'em in like fish
I'd scout the hottest lass and stake my claim next to the dish
If her hands rested by her side I'd aim me pelvis there….
The rubbin' 'gainst me zipper would wear out me underwear
I was reared a Catholic lad some may call it repressed
Ashamed of my body and thoughts and never spoke of sex.
If bathroom sounds would be profound the noise I'd try to hide….
No splashing pee in water, aimed it quietly on the side
I got a tad bit queasy in my red eye into Dublin
Burpin' up me dinner as me belly kept a bubblin'
That corned beef and that cabbage had me gut tossin' and tumblin'….
The porcelain on the airplane head I left a cracked and crumblin'
Hornpipe Magazine has kept me up on Irish dance
From articles on culture to ads for satin kick pants
Heel to toe and toe to heel, a "tappity tap" I go….
You can dance the hornpipe or you can give her a blow
Oisin and Saint Patrick is a legend that is told
The Saint is there as Oisin dies 300 plus years old
A druid turned his mother once then twice into a deer….
Who the hell crafts these tales? Easy on the beer.
There was a ribald lass who fondly took on all comers
Gender did not matter, nor did creed or the color
Drunken cockeyed squinting through the smoky haze and din….
Found the ribald lass with blarney stones upon her chin
I took up golf this summer cuz I like the scenery
Reminds me of me Ireland with the hills and greenery
But I may lose my temper o'er these lousy shots I'm takin'….
Lassie couldn't find my ball if it were wrapped in bacon
A drunken horny lass offered me an Irish Waistband
I thanked her but said "Really all I need's a Helping Hand"
The Urban Dictionary has these terms I never knew….
A Chicago Snowplow lass, is what I offer you
"It’s often that a person's mouth is what broke their nose"
This proverb couldn't be more true, I know quite how that goes
3 times I've been force fed my shnoz for being brash or coarse….
I'm sure before my song is through that there will be a fourth
At the pub an Irish lass joined me for oatmeal stout.
Her lily white hand nudged my gland and willie popped on out.
"Is that really something a proper Irish girl should see?”….
But I could only thank her for setting my willie free.
Angela's Ashes is a tale by Frank McCourt
Poverty and tragedy, his father drank for sport
Any time you start to think that maybe your life sucks….
Take in a couple chapters of this Irish authors book
I hope I never have Blarney Stones bouncin' off my chin
Or knockin at my back door with the thought of goin' in
For I'm a man a man you see, manly through and through….
The place I want my Blarney Stones is bouncing off of you
Sliced corned beef, I love to eat. I eat it every day-o
On fresh cut rye, I pile it high. Don't forget the mayo
Potato chips and pickle spears, what else can I say-o….
But when it's time I must pass, best get out my way-o
Erin was a love, a long lost love from long before!
Pretty eyes & shapely thighs of which I did adore!
When she walked in on sis & me rollin’ on the floor….
It didn't take her very long to show me arse the door!
I saw the show Kardashians on it the lad Bruce Jenner
Back in the day the girls would sway o'er this Olympic winner
I can't believe that's he I see once good looking and fast…
Why did he decide to change his face from lad to lass?
"A wet and windy May fills the barn with corn and hay"
This Irish proverb came from someone clever, so they say
But I beg to differ I can do better, you'll see….
"A wet and windy Mae gets corned in the barn hay then queefs"
Potatoes aren't merely a food they exemplify life
When fresh, boiled and peeled their beauty mimics a young wife
But as they age they wrinkle, bruise, taste bad and grow these "things"….
Much like that once fresh bride when she hits thirty something
Walking down the street I love to sing this crazy song.
It’s the one thing I love to do it takes me all day long.
But every now & then I think there must be something wrong….
About singing merrily about what's under my dong
My lass she likes when I come home a drunken Irish savage
I tear her clothes and rip her hose, her body then I ravage
We do our best to keep it fresh our love life far from average….
Like a good weef she corns my beef and then I stuff her cabbage
Seamus wore his tam at 10 and then again at 6
The birds would take aim on that tam so they could get some kicks
Down at his local he would drink until he was quite pissed….
The lasses dropped their knickers down and Seamus never missed.
Fiona never had a man but now she was quite game.
She buttoned down her bustier, to get laid was her aim.
She tried to toss her breasts about but didn't get a look ….
She wasn't very well endowed, a lad she was mistook
I never understood why all me lads like playin’ rugby
The last thing that I want is some huge, sweaty lad huggin’ me
“Come on Mike! Don’t be a lass” they’ll yell tryin’ to bug me….
Maybe I’ll date their lasses and find one to chug-a-lug me
If you are lucky to find the rare four leaf clover
Then pluck the boy by dropping to your knees or bend over
But if I happen by and find a lass in that position….
The luck you see will be with me and one-eyed Willie’s vision
I nearly scrapped with Liam when he kicked me Lucky Charms
A mighty blow from his steel toe I nearly bought the farm
He said that he’d been drinking and he surely meant no harm….
So I returned the favor and we left there arm in arm
Saturdays are here for us to watch old Notre Dame
A decade long embarrassment has brought the fan base shame
With bad coaching and no talent the effort has been lame….
Try and beat Navy this year and make a bad bowl game
Though lilliput in stature he makes up down where it counts
He is the horny leprechaun all the girls want to mount
Always at the ready this wee lad we are told….
Will send his rainbow up your skirt to find your pot of gold
When I go rattlin o'er the bog, it shakes me blarney stones
Gives me a wonderous feelin’ and I never feel alone
And if by chance along the way, I meet an lrish lass….
The angle of me dangle, equals the mass of her ass
The Pilgrims and Indians dined in 1621
The first Thanksgiving feast lasted 3 days and boy, was fun
Their meal lacked one key dish, the most delish if I do say so….
For not yet introduced to the New World, Ireland's potato
St Patty's Day’s a day where people fall like drunken leaves
Drifting in the air, the smells of cabbage & corned beef.
But late at night with my lass to my disbelief….
The luring smells that filled the air was just her latest queef!
People often ask me “Whom or what is Barleycorn?”
I tell them an actors name from a nasty, gnarly porn
He’s famous with his tongue because the rest of him is lame….
His winky is the size of a mere single barley grain
You must know that me favorite dog is the lrish Setter
With glorious, orange hair so long. One problem, he's a shedder.
He doesn't take instruction well, can't make the pup a sitter….
And every morn, I check my lawn. Ooowee, that boy's a shitter
I've traveled to the Isle of Man to find me special pet
I long for a Manx cat of mine, it's only here I'll get
A "stumpy" or a "rumpy", depends upon the rear….
Tis carelessness that taillessness originated here?
I'm an Irish fighting lad and I don't take no shat
Voracious and tenacious they call me Kilkenny Cat
I'll use me fists, I'll use a knife, bite or cock an uzi…
You'll regret the day you pulled the tail of this old pussy
I think that Ashton Kutcher should be our next president
The Octo-mom could be his Secretary of Defense
Kim Kardashian could be our new Supreme Court Judge….
With minds like these we'll finally see, America is done.
I ended the show that I loved I had to set her free
Brewkah Assault will not survive if done sporadically
It's much too soon for me to think ‘bout what I may do next….
'Cept to say what's on its way, this opus to Guinness!
The Irish boil potatoes and cook brisket for corned beef
They steam a head of cabbage and have names like Tim O'Keefe
They'll while away a chilly day making some Irish stew….
When not using their pots for food, their use - a second loo.
Hurling uses stick and ball, played by teams of 15
The object is to drive the ball through goals on grass so green
Camogie is the same game 'cept is played by lovely girls….
I'm more into the drinking games but even then I hurl
To a young, lovely lass I tipped me tam "Top 'o' the morn'"
She kindly asked me "What's your sign and what year were you born?"
I told her 1964, a Virgo's what I am….
Her nose wrinkled she said disgustedly "Beat it old man!"
It seems Conan O'Brien is "our" top celebrity
A "Mick" with a niche in the entertainment industry
Disproportionate. A closed society. Tis true?….
They'll never make a place for me but they'll make one for jew (I mean you)
Oh Danny Boy the pipes are calling from the glen
Down the mountain side the summer's gone, the flowers end
When the valley's white with snow in sunshine or shadow….
I'll be here Oh Danny Boy, Dan B. I love you so
I love to eat black pudding, love me sausage cooked with blood
Though hard to find in markets my lass Colleen stuffs it good
She knows her lad if good or bad she'll make me special treat….
But it's me blood filled sausage that me Colleen loves to eat
I'm filled inside with Celtic pride. I love green, orange and white
Get maudlin o'er violin, flute, bombarde and bagpipe
It may sound silly to a lass that lacks that sense of pride….
Come closer lass and let me pump and fill YOU up inside
Pasty flesh and orange hair, rolling green hills of Ennis
Leprechauns and pots of gold and pints and pints of Guinness
Ireland the lovely land of this and so much more….
The problem is its hard to enjoy, passed out on the floor
The first thing is to offer "cheers" when I grab a pint-uh
In Waterford the dialect would be Munster, "slainte" (sloynta)
In Belfast they might drop the "oy" add "cheh" and say "Slainte"(slaan-che)….
I want to drink my pint right now, just pix one dialect can't ya?
His curlies are bright orange and his teeth a shade 'o' green
Skin pasty white and bathroom bright he looks like Mr. Clean
But there is one more color that describes this Irish sap….
You must include the purple dude protruding from his lap
Oh Blarney Stones, sweet Blarney Stones, you mean so much to Nooj
More than a chant or Irish rant from narcissism's stooge
A world record song may be the feather in me cap….
That helps define sweet Nooj as more than a big pile of crap
Now that's my silly ditty I hope it was not too long
St. Patty's Day is special I express that through my song
Here's your last chance to join in for soon I will be gone….
Raise your beer it's time to hear Blarney Stone sing-a-long!
---THE END---
I am very proud of my Irish heritage and Kiss Me Blarney Stones is just my way of celebrating and enjoying that heritage. The Irish self-deprecating sense of humor is just one of the many great qualities about being Irish that I am truly proud of. I hope that people in the spirit that was intended enjoy this song. This song is an embracing, in a tongue-in-cheek manner, the many stereotypes associated with the Irish. I try not to take myself too seriously and I hope that comes through in this song. Thank you to Ted Rypel and The Pop Tarts for their fantastic contributions to this song. I’d also like to thank additional contributors Jim Grega, Rich Grega, Dennis Turchek and Dave Dewar for their material.
Kiss Me Blarney Stones,
Michael Joseph Nugent
