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POG MO THOIN

by Alternative Ulster

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  • POG MO THOIN - 13 track CD
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    13 Tracks of Bagpipe Rock & Roll - Pog Mo Thoin, Drunk as Fuck, This We Will Defend, Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore, Krampus, Ghetto Piper, Irish Wake, Free Beer Tomorrow, Haggis, Self-Appointed Kilt Inspector, Stairway to Reason, Ladies from Hell, Sgt. McKenzie

    All songs composed by John McGovern, Todd Henry and Jay Andersen, except Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore (The Chieftains) and Sgt. MacKenzie (John Kilna MacKenzie).

    All songs performed by John McGovern, Todd Henry and Jay Andersen, and recorded, mixed and mastered by Jay Andersen at Operation-Audio / BohemeSphere in Saugerties,NY

    Lyrics by John McGovern

    Includes unlimited streaming of POG MO THOIN via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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1.
POG MO THOIN 01:45
If Irish born you're bred, your people always said, in times of pain or dread, POG MO THOIN, POG MO THOIN Against the viking's axe, against the british tax, against the lobsterbacks, POG MO THOIN, POG MO THOIN They stood and never fled, and fought until they're dead, until their blood flowed red, POG MO THOIN, POG MO THOIN And in Amerikay, they labored night and day, for a peasant's pay, POG MO THOIN, POG MO THOIN So, sing with wit and class, shout with balls of brass, Kiss My Irish Ass! POG MO THOIN, POG MO THOIN
2.
I had whiskeys with Justin, and The Go Set punk band, who came up from Down Under, to conquer our land. I had more whiskey, with Mad Paul McKenzie, who lifted his kilt, drove the lasses to frenzy. I've prayed to the angels, but I'm shit out of luck. They've cursed me to hell, 'Cos I'm drunk as fuck! The Dropkick Murphys played Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced. The barkeep was too quick, every empty was replaced. Dirty Old Shane McGowan, slurred an old Irish song. Then drank my black porter, still, he did me no wrong. I've prayed to the angels, but I'm shit out of luck. They've cursed me to hell, 'Cos I'm drunk as fuck! The next stop was Poughkeepsie, at Mahoney's fine pub, for ten pints of Guinness, a piss and some grub. And at the last bar, were Finny's Mahones, the next day's hangover, reduced me to groans. I've prayed to the angels, but I'm shit out of luck. They've cursed me to hell, 'Cos I'm drunk as fuck!
3.
This we will defend, Our will will never bend, We’ll fight until the end, To hell, you, we’ll send. We are standing tall, United, we are all, We heed the piper’s call, To dine in Odin’s Hall. ‘Tis no big thing to die, So look me in the eye, I’d like to see you try, You are the reason why, We freemen all unite, To join into the fight, To crush you with our might, The day destroys the night.
4.
5.
KRAMPUS 02:33
If you've been a little prick, you'll get no gifts from Old St. Nick. If all you do is bitch and fuss, best beware of old Krampus. With cloven hoof and horns of goat, the hairy beast has a wicker tote, to carry off the little brats, to snap their bones and render their fats. He rows from the Rondout in a wooden boat, with arms of a man and legs of a goat. If you don't pray and go to church, he'll put you in chains and whip you with birch. If you do not love the Lord our God, sure as shit you'll get Krampus' rod. With eyes of fire and tongue so long, He's the reason for the season and this song. You better pay the piper for his tune, or all the kids will be gone before the next noon. There will be no Christmas without no kids, no Johnnies, no Nancys and even no Sids.
6.
GHETTO PIPER 02:52
I am the ghetto piper I'm loud, I'm proud, I'm drunk my mighty drones will rock your bones when I play Irish punk They always cry when I play the pipes, I must really suck. If I can just get through this tune, it will be some Irish luck. The dogs all howl, the cats all growl, I must really blow. But I can always fake the tunes, that they don't really know. I am the ghetto piper I'm loud, I'm proud, I'm drunk my mighty drones will rock your bones when I play Irish punk Still they ask me to play, they must all be nuts. if they need their ears to bleed, I’ll give it all my guts. It’s an honor and a privilege, to pipe beside a grave. Amazing Grace, about face, Scotland the Brave. I am the ghetto piper I'm loud, I'm proud, I'm drunk my mighty drones will rock your bones when I play Irish punk
7.
IRISH WAKE 02:53
Stand me in the corner when I'm dead, Put a pint o' Guinness on me head. Strike up the pipers, and bang on the drums, It's my Own Irish Wake with all of you bums. (Give me a shot of whiskey) (Give me a fine cigar) (Give me a final kiss) (Sing me a Song ) (Give the stiff a stiffy) (Give me a pint of Guinness) fer fuck's sake, It’s my final hooley, my own Irish Wake. The band will play Irish punk, My friends will jig and get drunk. I've piped a thousand funerals, now my work is done, There’s no Amazing Grace, this wake is just for fun.
8.
A local pub hung an ad They’ll have free beer tomorrow when I returned the next day so glad I only found a jug of sorrow It was like a lying priest’s promise Of eternal bliss up in heaven If only you pay him and obey him And avoid the deadly seven Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow he said, Today you’ll just have to pay, So get it through your thick Mick head, And come back another day. As I toed his tarnished brass rail My thirst driving me quite mad The barkeep’s cash in advance demand Rendered me oh so sad And when I pointed at the sign He laughed right in my face You’re too dumb to drink beer here Get the fuck out of my place Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow he said, Today you’ll just have to pay, Did yer mammie drop you on your head, Piss off he laughed his voice so gay. The concept left me quite confused Why on this day must I pay The evil barkeep was too amused As he told me be on my way But kind sir, it’s free beer that I seek, So, please will you answer me this, Upon exactly what day of the week, Shall I return to find my bliss? Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow he cried, Can’t you read the damn sign, So sad I sighed, your sign has lied, This shall be no pub of mine.
9.
HAGGIS 02:04
Chappit tatties and neeps, and haggis for all me peeps, then slaughter the English creeps, who sowed what satan reeps. Oh haggis will make us strong, we'll sing a mighty song, to right what was wrought wrong, and slay the southern throng. I'll gird up me kilt, and avenge the blood they spilt, Scotland's flower shall never wilt, in the land that Wallace built. We'll slay both pawn and evil Duke, and drown them in our haggis puke, our bold advance their king shall spook, our claymore sings out our rebuke.
10.
I stride strong into the pub, My kilt sways to and thro, Alas back by the bar, Is a fat, old drunken ho. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore. “What’s underneath your kilt?”, She giggles out with glee, And starts walking to me, To cop a feel for free. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore. “Now hold a minute lassie, Cease your sexual assault” You do not meet my standards, And that’s your own damn fault. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore. Now, I’ll never strike a lady, But she no lady be, Just a drunken horny slob, Who’ll lay no hand on me. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore. For standing right behind me, Is my lovely wife, You lay one finger on me, She’ll fucking end your life. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore. So begone evil wench, Crawl back underneath your rock, This pub is not a farmyard, And I’m not your crowing cock. The self-appointed kilt inspector, She’s no man’s dream for sure, She thinks she being clever, When she’s acting like a whore.
11.
You are dealt a hand of cards, it's your lot in life. Born into a world of chaos, full of venom, hate and strife. A punk rock poet once said, it's such a gamble to get a face. It's not fair, it's not square, and it puts you in your place. The piper’s calling you to join him, during this slaughter season, For Christ’s table, is just a fable the piper will lead us to reason. The homely must work harder, while the pretty get a pass. There's so much at stake, for fuck's sake, based on the shape of your ass. In every deck a joker, who’ll trip you in life’s run, the wild card will hit you hard, then kick you ‘til you’re done. The piper’s calling you to join him, during this slaughter season, For Christ’s table, is just a fable the piper will lead us to reason. To slip one up their sleeve, is what the winners learn, to achieve, they must deceive, without care nor concern. The mating call of the loser, is to whine that it’s not fair, they put their trust in what is just the devil will take that dare. The piper’s calling you to join him, during this slaughter season, For Christ’s table, is just a fable the piper will lead us to reason.
12.
The Germans fled in fear, and left behind their beer. when they heard their own death knell, played by the Ladies from Hell. The highland pipes are weapons of war, The celtic piper played the score. That raised the spirits of their men, at the gates of hell, and home again. A man in a kilt is a man and a half, who'll slit your throat with the blade by his calf. Balls that big don't fit in pants well, the biggest balls belong to the Ladies from Hell. In the fields where many fell, They piped their foes off to hell. A war to end all wars to win, waged against the force of sin. They fought the fight they knew was right, and filled their troops with righteous might. They freed the french who dropped their guns, from the evil hold of the vicious huns. A man in a kilt is a man and a half, who'll slit your throat with the blade by his calf. Balls that big don't fit in pants well, the biggest balls belong to the Ladies from Hell. From many a nazi blood was spilt, at the hands of a man in a kilt. And whether they wore stars or stripes, they all stood in awe of the man with the pipes. They wore gas masks to kill death’s stench and awaited the reaper in a muddy trench when the time came to charge no-man’s land the kilted piper was their one man band. A man in a kilt is a man and a half, who'll slit your throat with the blade by his calf. Balls that big don't fit in pants well, the biggest balls belong to the Ladies from Hell.
13.

credits

released February 11, 2018

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Alternative Ulster New York

Founded in March 2015, Alternative Ulster hails from NY State's Catskill's region. Members are John McGovern on bagpipes and banjo, Todd Henry on vocals and drums and Jay Anderson on guitar and bass as well as all recording and mixing. While recording their Christmas CD, the lads needed a lady for the female lines. Wendy Henry's singing so blew them away that she's now a full member of the band ... more

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