The Thatcher Song

Maggie thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all
She's the curse of the Irish nation fine Gael and Fianna Fáil
She's destroyed me hire-purchase and she's put me on the dole
If I could only get my hands on her, I'd kick her up the

Good Anya Mrs Thatcher, you're the cutest girl of all
Such a biddy fine and buxom sure the likes you'll not recall
When she holds negotiations, things they always reach a hitch
She's the world in ruination such a schemer the old

Good Anya Mrs Thatcher, no one in this world can match her
But she's trying to take the vote away from the paddies once again
We're not worried 'bout your English vote nor your politicians gas
You can keep them Mrs Thatcher, you can shove them up your

Help us Mrs Thatcher, with the prices rising high
And the work is getting awful scarce paddy's losing that's no lie
Now you say that you don't want us that we've stayed here long enough
But if I were a taxidermist I would tell you to get

Fair play Mrs Thatcher, sure you know a trick or two
And each time you come to Dublin well we know just what you'll do
You'll dress up in your finery and preach with all your might
But all of your fancy promises are just a load of

We love you Mrs Thatcher, like your old man loves his brew
Such a lad your husband Denis when he's had a sup or two
Sure he'll take a pint of porter and a glass of Irish mist
And because he faces you each night no wonder he gets

Thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all
She's the curse of the Irish Nation Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil