Back In The Country Hell

Well oh well I'm back in the County Hell 
I just flew in and my arms they feel like hell 
I'm so glad to be back in the County Hell 
I missed the smack, I missed the crack, 
I missed the killings too 
I missed the London Irish girls 
But especially missed you 
The USA never fails to make me blue 

Put me in charge I'd execute the Artistic Queers 
And all the fuckin' bastards that drink trendy Irish beers 
My death squads would be kids from flats 
All high from sniffing glue 
I'd use them to kill rich Brits 
And the journalistic whores 

The park bench Aristocrats 
Are drinking in the park 
And the junkies are still sneaking 
In for fix up after dark 
And Jock laid out on his park bench 
Like it was his home settee 
Singin' like a fallen angel Me and Bobby McGee 

When I've done my patriotic chore 
And burnt London to the ground 
I'll go back home to Nenagh 
And get pissed every night in town 
Like the ol' folks say, 
You can't keep a good man down 

And the park bench Aristocrats 
Still drinking in the park 
The junkies are still sneaking in 
For fix up after dark 
Jock's still laid out on his park bench 
Like it was his own settee 
Singing like a fallen angel 
Me and Bobby McGee 

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose 
Nothin ain't worth nothin if ain't free 
Feelin good was easy Lord when Bobby sang the blues 
Feelin good was good enough for me 
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee