Funky Ceili (Bride's Song)

Lyrics

Bridie was teachin' out in Carysfort
 I was workin' in the bank
 2 paycheques every Friday
 And a Morris Minor out the back
 But I was mad for jigs and reels
 Drinkin' dirty big pints of stout
 When the Bank of Ireland gave me the boot
 They said "Don't let the door hit your arse, on the way out."
 Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
 I was born to play the funky ceili
 Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
 Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
 Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
 Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
 I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
 Without me punky funky ceili
 Bridie broke down and started to bawl
 When I told her about me divorce from the bank
 She said "I've got news of me own, a stor,
 I'm 2 months late, it's not with the rent"
 She said I'd have to be tellin' her Da
 So we drove the Morris Minor to Cork
 The ould fella said "You've got two choices,
 Castration, or a one way ticket to New York!"
 Oh Bridie, what can I do girl
 Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
 I was born to play the funky ceili
 Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
 Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
 Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
 I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
 Without me punky phunky funky ceili
 So here I am up on Bainbridge Avenue
 Still in one piece but glad I'm alive
 Drinkin' dirty big glasses of porter
 Playin' me jigs and me reels and me slides
 Think of you, Bridie, whenever I'm sober
 Which isn't too often, I have to confess
 Take good care of the Morris Minor
 Bad luck to your Da
 And give the baby a great big kiss...
 From his Daddy in the Bronx
 Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
 I was born to play the funky ceili
 Over the seas and far away, off to Ameri-kay
 Fiddlee diddlee deidely dee
 Where the wild, wild women were waitin' for me
 Think of me Bridie whenever you see me there on your MTV
 I love you, a cushla, but how could I be
 Without me punky phunky funky ceili
 Oh Bridie, I'm still crazy about you, girl
 Does the baby look like me, Bridie?
 Has he got red hair and glasses?
 Oh, Bridie, sell the Morris Minor
 Come on out to America, girl
 The pubs never close over here
 I've got a palace up on Bainbridge Avenue
 I've got the biggest bed in the world, girl,
 We can stay in it and make babies forever
 Oh Bridie
 Oh Bridie
 ...

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
04:16
Key
7
Tempo
174 BPM

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