Fire in the Glen


I went to what they call
A Scots-Irish Festival,
And I didn't know exactly what I'd find.
Would I encounter there
A Celtic mixture rare
With a bright red head of Irish hair and a bony Scots behind?

I knew I'd found my man
'Cause he held in his right hand
A bridie, and the other held a spud.
On his right boot, I was sure,
Was a trace of sheep manure.
On the other was a great big glob of honest Irish mud.

(He said) My mither was from Glasgow
And my da from County Cork,
And I'm tugged in twa directions every day.
I need to make me money
Without doing any work,
I was born and bred Scots-Irish all the way.

Just take me to a pub
And forget about the grub --
I'll down Scotch with Guinness chasers till I'm gray.
And when the drinking's done,
If you turn your head I'll run,
'Cause I'm Irish when I drink, but I'm Scottish when I pay.

Now should some lassie bright
Claim I toyed with her one night,
I'll deny it till her parents go away.
If that blarney doesn't work,
There's sanctuary in the kirk,
'Cause I'm Irish when I sin, but I'm Scottish when I pray.


And should a donnybrook start,
I'm bound to do my part,
For both the Scots and Irish run amuck.
Every Englishman should fear
My fist upon his ear,
'Cause I'm John L. Sullivan when I swing and Braveheart when I duck.

If Hollywood is wise
Enough to dramatize
My life, I know who I would cast today.
Two actors win the prize
With a Celtic compromise --
Liam Neeson for the movie and Sean Connery for the play.


I'm a purebred, pure Scots-Irish all the way,
Sure and hoot, mon, I'm Scots-Irish all the way,
Oh Danny Bairn....

Words & music by Chet Williamson.

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