Wooden chairs on wooden floors
And a bonnie lass at the bar
Pouring pints in fishnet tights
Whilst shaking her tip jar
The boys are gettin’ lairy
'Cause they’ve had a bit to drink
What's this poor young barmaid gonna think
Autumn locks and knee length frocks
In a pub they’d like to call
Ye old stairway to heaven
‘Cause at the end most men would fall
To their knees, the boys would plead
Come take me by the hand
Lets dance a jig to this good old Irish band
When you haven’t got a phone
You’ve better write her a love letter
‘Causе a girl with her foundations
Gonna find someone much fittеr
And if by chance, some how, some way
Your invite aint been canned
Then take her to that good old Irish band
He takes me to a quaint jazz bar
Where the birds are scared to tweet
I say what are you playing at
I’m here to stamp my feet
I know a pub not far away
Where the beer and music's grand
Come follow me to this good old Irish band
When you haven’t got a phone
You’ve better write her a love letter
‘Cause a girl with her foundations
Gonna find someone much fitter
And if by chance, some how, some way
Your invite aint been canned
Then take her to that good old Irish band
This dancing thing aint to hard, i’ve had her up all night
Well actually he barely knows his bloody left from right
I think she’s playing hard to get
I think he’s rather daft
But i’ve gotta say, she’s been a rate good laugh
When you haven’t got a phone
You’ve better write her a love letter
‘Cause a girl with her foundations
Gonna find someone much fitter
And if by chance, some how, some way
Your invite aint been canned
Then take her to that good old Irish band
When you haven’t got a phone
You’ve better write her a love letter
‘Cause a girl with her foundations
Gonna find someone much fitter
And if by chance, some how, some way
Your invite aint been canned
Then take her to that good old Irish band