May the Lord upon high who rules the sky Look down on our pubs and bars And the women and men all seated within Neglecting their pints and their jars The crack it is bad, the atmosphere sad Every man has a face like a mule For all he can do is to grab an old cue And start playing that game of pool Well, when I was a boy it was always me joy To go to the pub each night There were arguments scraps and killings perhaps And everyone thought he was right There were badgers and dogs And men from the bogs And young fellows acting the tool But now there's no crack For everyman Jack Has his arse in the air playing pool To the local ale house after milking the cows Every customer made his way And there he would dwell and drink till he fell While the fiddles and pipes they did play The jigs and the reels, the rattling of heels Polkas and slides were the rule But now there's no chance of a tune or a dance For everyone's playing the ould pool Well, this pool you will find is a game designed For foolish illiterate louts You push in four bob and you pull an old knob And a big shower of balls they come out They're placed on a table and then if you're able To knock them all into a hole More money goes in, you start over again And you lose every bob of your dole Now in the Irish Free State All the people are bate From watching and playing this game In their necks they have cricks That no doctor could fix And their backs and their shoulders are maimed Their arses protrude in a manner most lewd From being hoisted aloft in the air And their eyeballs are sore And dripping in gore And they act in a manner most quare So if you meet a young man Who's face it is wan And his eyes have a vacant stare His jawbone is slack And his head is thrown back And he can't tell a cob from a mare His nostrils dilated, his brow corrugated His manners like those of a fool On your shirt you can bet That you have just met A man that's gone plain mad from pool