D                                  G
Goodbye to the Port and Brandy, to the Vodka and the Stag,
           A                          A7                  D
to the Schmiddick and the Harpic, the bottled draught and keg.
      D                                      G
As I sat lookin' up the Guinness and I could never figure out,
          A                                   A7            G   A D
how your man stayed up on the surfboard after 14 pints of stout.

         D                               G
    I dreamt a dream the other night, I couldn't sleep a wink,
         A                                     A7
    the rats were tryin' to count the sheep and I was off the drink.
                D                             G
    There were footsteps in the parlour and voices on the stairs,
       A                                 A7
    and I was climbin' up the walls and movin' round the chairs.

              D                             G
    I looked out from under the blanket and up at the fireplace,
                   A                             A7
    there was the Pope and John F. Kennedy were starin' in me face.
          D                             G
    And Suddenly it dawned at me I was getting the old D.T.s,
               A                                             A7
    when the Child o' Prague began to dance around the mantlepiece.

     D                                  G
Goodbye to the Port and Brandy, to the Vodka and the Stag,
           A                          A7                  D
to the Schmiddick and the Harpic, the bottled draught and keg.
      D                                      G
As I sat lookin' up the Guinness and I could never figure out,
          A                                   A7            G   A D
how your man stayed up on the surfboard after 14 pints of stout.

              D                       G
    Well, I swore upon the Bible I'd never touch a drop,
        A                            A7
    my heart was palpitatin', I was sure 'twas going to stop,
     D                              G
    Thinkin' I was dyin' I gave my soul to God to keep,
       A                        A7
    a tenner to St. Anthony to help me get some sleep.

           D                          G
    I fell into an awful nightmare - got a dreadful shock,
             A                                  A7
    when I dreamt there was no Duty-free at the airport down in Knock.
             D
    And Ian Paisley was sayin' the rosary,
                   G
    and Mother Theresa was taking the the pill,
                A                                   A7
    and Frank Patterson was out of his head, he was singin' Spancil Hill.

     D                                  G
Goodbye to the Port and Brandy, to the Vodka and the Stag,
           A                          A7                  D
to the Schmiddick and the Harpic, the bottled draught and keg.
      D                                      G
As I sat lookin' up the Guinness and I could never figure out,
          A                                   A7            G   A D
how your man stayed up on the surfboard after 14 pints of stout.

        D                                       G
    I dreamt I was in ecstacy in Heaven, and in agony in Hell,
           A                                A7
    I was bored in Limbo and then I was in Purgatory as well.
                    D
    And there was original sins and venial sins,
         G
    and mortal sins by the score,
               A
    so I tied barbed wire around my underpants,
                A7
    and I flagellated myself on the floor.

             D
    Then I dreamt I was in the confessional box,
                  G
    and the auld Bishop said to me,
          A
    'Any impure thoughts, my child?'
               A7
    Sure the f**king barbed wire was killin' me !
                  D                                        G
    And then I dreamt I was in the jacuzzi with that auld hoor from No. 10,
          A                          A7
    and then I knew I'd never ever, ever drink again.

     D                                  G
Goodbye to the Port and Brandy, to the Vodka and the Stag,
           A                          A7                  D
to the Schmiddick and the Harpic, the bottled draught and keg.
      D                                      G
As I sat lookin' up the Guinness and I could never figure out,
          A                                   A7            G   A D
how your man stayed up on the surfboard after 14 pints of stout.