The Pyramids at Sneem

I know that you do love me
But do wish that I was dead
Then to speculate to the chasms
Round my pale and muted head
In the grave of old O’Leary
And the horse behind half door
And the ones who did devour their own
Call it culture
Making do with the want to be’s
Who thrive upon the mores
Not appointed by my heavens queen
But by conventions mere beaux gestes
See them graze around the midlands
While the hungry scorch the hill
Where they reach to touch the heavens
Where heavens pastures fill

But I’ll throw my lot with Rory’s
And Jame’s stained – glass dream
I’ll throw my lot with Noel Brasil
And the pyramids at Sneem

I know that you do love me
Your ancient tattooed priest
How I rattle with your stones and bones
Each time I rise to speak
From the grave of old O’Leary
Where the horse danced caracole
And the ones who would devour their own
Call it culture

But I’ll throw my lot with Rory’s
And Jame’s stained – glass dream
I’ll throw my lot with Noel Brasil
And the pyramids at Sneem

Singing Toora loora loora
Toora loora li
Toora loora loora
For an exhiled lullalby
Tooraloora loora
Tooraloora li
Tooraloora loora
Good bye

• Written by Jimmy MacCarthy