From the recording Songs of Sligo
Irish Americans… we’ve all met a few. They are adorably enamored with the country and equally clueless. But isn’t that just sweet?
Lyrics
Landed in Dublin, pint in my hand,
Off to Sligo—ancestral land!
Grandad said we’re royalty here,
But nobody’s rolling out kegs of beer...
I asked for directions to “Slay-go” town,
Got a look that could knock me down.
"Tub-ber-curry, Cool-a-daw?"
Man, these names just break my jaw!
Oh, I am an Irish American in Sligo,
Talking too much everywhere I go.
It’s Irish, not Gaelic, they told me twice,
And no, the IRA ain't their vibe!
Said, "Tell me now, do ye hate the Brits?"
The barman sighed, "Ah, here we go, kid…"
"We’re past all that, just grab a seat,
And maybe don’t yell in the middle of the street!"
Oh, I am an Irish American in Sligo,
Talking too much everywhere I go.
It’s Irish, not Gaelic, they told me twice,
And no, the IRA ain't their vibe!
Met a lad named Oisín—"Ozzin? O-what?"
Said, "Never mind, just call me Pat."
Bought me a round, said, "Welcome, son,
But your history lesson’s a little… undone."
Tried Riverdance, broke my shoe,
Ordered black pudding, still don’t know what I chewed.
Told them my roots, they laughed and said,
"You’re Irish, alright… in the tourist sense!"
Oh, I am an Irish American in Sligo,
Talking too much everywhere I go.
It’s Irish, not Gaelic, they told me twice,
And no, the IRA ain't their vibe!
Still in Sligo, still quite lost,
Still pronouncing names like I’m half-sauced.
But one thing’s clear, through all the foam—
Ireland’s grand, and it feels like home!