Uncle Jim

My Uncle Jim was a hell of a man
 He lived in the Philippine Islands
 Came back home in '67
 To convert us local savages
 He was very popular in Wexford town
 Though not with the priests or the clergy
 For he could say the mass in ten minutes flat
 We called him Father Speedy Gonzalez.
 He didn't say boo in confession
 He wasn't the least judgmental
 If you didn't kill your ma or your da
 He could be exceedingly gentle
 A terrible man for drinkin' shorts
 He loved to bet on the horses
 I can still see him there with the fag in his mouth
 Studyin' form at the races
 Hey Uncle Jim I miss you still
 Though we fought like divils sometimes
 About sex and guns and rock & roll
 And all the bad things on me mind
 One day he got a notion from hell
 I thought he was havin' me on
 "The Rev. Ian Paisley," he said
 "Reminds me of St. Paul.
 That man must learn to change his ways
 He needs a helpin' hand
 And a first class dose of the Holy Ghost
 I'm sure he'll understand."
 Se we set out for Belfast town
 The priest and a slip of a boy
 We were just a mile from Portadown
 When the Specials pulled us over
 "Where are you goin' with your Roman collar
 And your bottle of holy water?"
 "We're off to convert the Rev. Ian."
 They nearly fell down with the laughter
 Hey Uncle Jim I miss you still
 Though we fought like divils sometimes
 About sex and guns and rock & roll
 And all the bad things on me mind
 With guns and jeers they threatened us
 But they were wastin' their time
 For Jim had faced down Chairman Mao
 Back in 1949
 They inquired about our relationship
 And the sexual drives of the Pope
 I wanted to cry at the sight of their guns
 For I had given up hope
 Me Uncle stared at the Orangemen
 He didn't give a damn
 If they strung him up in Portadown
 He was that kind of a man
 I swore to God in heaven
 I wouldn't let him down
 And cry in front of them fascists
 That turned me life around
 Hey Uncle Jim I miss you still
 Though we fought like divils sometimes
 About sex and guns and rock & roll
 And all the bad things on me mind
 We never got to see the Rev. Ian
 And things went from bad to worse
 But I wonder if it'd all have turned out the same
 If Jim and he had a smoke
 And talked about racehorses
 And the epistles of St. Paul
 Over a bottle of Bushmills
 They could have settled it all.
 Hey Uncle Jim I miss you still
 Though we fought like divils sometimes
 About sex and guns and rock & roll
 And all the bad things on me mind.
 © Starry Plough Music (BMI)