Met a girl in Dublin town, pretty as a picture, (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Said she wouldn’t marry me; we weren’t a real good mixture,
Well, she was easy on the eye, and I thought that I would die the first time I ever fought her,
You don’t think about what you say to your girl after seventeen bottles of porter.
Well, once again we’re highway bound, on the road with all the boys, (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Spent the night in some old church somewhere down in Illinois,
John Murphy and me, and old Jimmy D playing poker with the vicar’s daughter,
Your brain isn’t wired up the way it should be after seventeen bottles of porter.
I fell down and I cried out loud, I tried to tell it like it was, (oh yeah, oh yeah)
Prayed for help and guidance too, that God would come and help my cause,
I feel on me knees and I said, “Jesus, please would you come help me restore law and order?”
He said, “Aye, I will if you knock off the swill, no more seventeen bottles of porter,”
“I tried, that’s the truth – me mooth had the druth, and that’s all I have to report, sir,”
He said, “Don’t bother me, take responsibility for your seventeen bottles of porter.”
