This is a song called The Banker Blues. I wrote it in Kilkenny many years ago. I was building a house at the time and I was borrowing a lot of money from the bank, I owed them Pounds 35,000. Around the same time I did a fast for Amnesty International and collected in about 50 pounds and I spent it mostly on drink I'd say. So eventually I had to send Amnesty a cheque for 50 pounds and when the bank got the cheque for 50 pounds back they said what the hell is this guy doing sending amnesty a check for £50 when he owes us £35,000. So the bank manager rang me and I had to explain to him in great detail what had happened and I wrote this song called the Banker Blues as a result.
I've got those bankers blues and it ain’t good news
My banker, he’s a tease, he gives me the credit squeeze.
He squeeze me all the time
He ain’t no friend of mine
He squeeze me night and day
He squeeze all my good times away
I hear the telephone ring
I know that dingaling
He ring me now to complain as only he knows how
He wants to know you see
What could this cheque here be
It’s for Amnesty, aw please pay it out for me
You know what he said
Ain’t no Amnesty when you deal with me
I Can't pay this out ‘til you tell me what it’s all about
It’s not what you suspect
It’s money I collect
For a good cause
I ain’t broken any laws
He said
Well I’ll pay this time
But keep it on your mind
Don’t write no more cheques
Stick to something free like sex
I've got those bankers blues and it ain’t good news
My banker, he’s a tease, he gives me the credit squeeze.
The rain is falling night and day
We're all going to be washed away
I've got those Irish summer time blues
Put your top coat on
Wrap your scarf up tight
Wear your galoshes to the dance tonight
We’ll all dance ot the Irish summer time blues
A friend of mine went off to Spain
Saw the sun getting off the plane
The sight of it drove him insane
He was never seen again
In Africa they’re dying of drought
Our only drought is when we run out of stout
Let’s all drink to the Irish summer time blues
My boss got hit by a hailstone today
He fell in the gutter and got washed away
Washed away those Irish summer time blues
A friend of mine went off to Spain
Saw the sun getting off the plane
The sight of it drove him insane
He was never seen again
Rain, rain, rain, rain
I’ve got water on the brain
I’ve got those Irish summer time blues
Let it rain, let it pour,
Call the barman and order more
Drink again to the Irish summer time blues
A friend of mine went off to Spain
Saw the sun getting off the plane
The sight of it drove him insane
He was never seen again
People talking at me all the time
Telling me the poor are always dying
They don’t realise, I think it’s true
That rich folk just like me have problems too
Wondering what I’m going to have for brunch,
Wondering what I’m going to have for lunch
Caviar can get stuck to your teeth
It’s a problem knowing what to eat
The way the servants behave has me grey
I let the butler go the other day
I did not like the frown upon his brow
He’s suing me for unfair dismissal now
The package tours have taken over Cannes
Etiquette in Monty’s nearly gone
It’s hard to tell whose who any more
Even tradesmen using the front door
I used to go fox hunting every year
A passtime full of bonhomie and good cheer
The farmers now won’t let us cross the land
I think it’s time us rich folk took a stand
I used to give Oxfam 10 pounds a year
And charge it against taxes never fear
It’s not tax deductible any more
Let someone else worry about the poor
Daddy, how far is Kandahar
Daddy, daddy, how far is Kandahar
Well son, that depends on who you are
If you’re a soldier in the war
Kandahar is very, very far
And daddy, will I have to fight out there
Daddy, daddy, will I have to fight out there?
No, you’re a Bush, you’ve nothing to fear
You can fight your war from here
You won’t have to go and fight out there
And daddy, who are those people sent to war
Daddy, who are those people sent to war
Well they’re fellow Americans, not top brass
Good folk too but not our class
They’re the people that we send to war
And daddy, do we send women out to war
Daddy, do we send women out to war
Yes, my son, we sure do
To show they’re equal to me and you
We sure send our women out to war
Yes my son, it’s our destiny
To lead our country to victory
With God and the economy
Our crusade cannot fail
But daddy, what about those body bags
Daddy, daddy, what about those body bags
Well, my son that’s the price we pay
To show the world the American way
We bring our brave men home in body bags
And what about their mothers, wives and kids
Daddy, what about their mothers, wives and kids
Well my son, that’s the price they pay
To show the world the American way
God bless America’s mothers, wives and kids
Daddy, how far is Iraq
Daddy, Daddy, how far is Iraq
Well son, that depends on who you are
If you’re a soldier in the war
It’s a long, long way there and back
Yeah, that depends on who you are
If you’re a soldier in the war
It’s a long, long way there and back