The Man Who Wrote Danny Boy

It happened one night at three in the morning
The devil appeared in my studio room
And he said, "I'm your pal and I'll make you a deal
Blow away all your struggle and take your soul for a toy"
After rubbing my eyes I looked all around me
At the half-finished drivel I'd worked on for days
And I told him my dream was to live for all time
In some perfect refrain like the man who wrote 'Danny Boy'
And I said, "If you're real then I'll ask you a question
While most of us turn into ashes or dust
Just you and that other guy go on forever
But who writes the history and who do I trust?"
He gave me a wink and he said it was funny
How mortals would pour all their blood, sweat and tears
Onto tape, onto paper or into the air
To be lost and forgotten outside of his kind's employ
Then I thought I could hear a great sound in the distance
Of whisky-soaked singing and laughter and cheers
And they're saying that song could bring tears to a glass eye
So pass me the papers, I'll sign them in blood
And the smell of the brimstone has turned into greasepaint
And the roar of the crowd like the furies of hell
And I hear the applause and I hear the bells ringing
And the sound of a woman's voice from the next room, saying
"Come to me now, come lay down beside me
Whatever you're doing you're too gone to see
You can't hold onto shadows no more than to years
So be glad for the pleasures we're young enough to enjoy"
So maybe I'm drunk or maybe a liar
Or maybe we're all living inside a dream
You can say what you like, when I'm gone then you'll see
I'll be down in the dark, down underground
With Shakespeare and Bach and the man who wrote 'Danny Boy'