From Troon to Larne

Urges craven and foolhardy come booming over phone
Filial scripts on stages impossibly drilled in over the phone
What you are doin' is good for the soul
But you're tethering yourself down
Might as well be a byre dwelling bachelor
Footing turf and nowhere bound

Are you not that man of renown who could draw blood from a stone
And are you not that man about town who for a year lived alone
You are blessed among swine like an opulent handyman
Still you channel virtue!
Dancing in a seafront kiosk among the sparks of the moon

In fairness begott'n and bareness forgott'n in casks
What winged spirit would compel thee to ask
What is it you must go through?
And if in my words I speak too fast
In faith you would fain be renew'd!

Awoken by the snap of a wish bone
For the last time passing Ailsa Craig on your way
From Troon to Larne
Modernity rover treat her kindly
Maternally southern foxgloves bloom
And I'll scorn not his simplicity
Oh there are many things I continue to do wrong
But you wont get me for that
Nah you won't get me for that

In the ruins of your welcome are twenty dollar shaped stale cakes
You sighed as the door opened, deflated balloons keelin' in stalemate
And with the chairs refolding for the first time again
And the confetti adorning the grass
In the wake of your welcome are seven and four
Upright sleepin' old men from your past

Who can no longer bare the brunt of all the shite you say
Such as "I'm a freeborn man of the USA"
Down at the crossroads swifts are wheelin' and speakin' in tongues
Tellin' me to go on back, all that fear was in your head you made!

And for that I will tip the porter kindly
Nah I'll not be frugal in payin' passage
From Troon to Larne
Head transcendence in the evening, full of ascendant yeast and warmth
Caused this spiritual abrasure, fanned and punished by the morn
Of infrastructural maintenance with workin men from elsewhere
So you'll decide to stay or go after this trip across the foam
Ah you said you'd have no regrets
Like a bandit forging a ditchline
And you will get me with that
Yeah you got me there with that
After gang o'er the foam once more
From Troon to Larne

Round Lough Neagh past Castlecaulfield
Down through Fenagh past Selton Hill
Past the seventh son of the seventh son
Where the parading captain fell ill
And I'll walk down in through the hedgerow
Knock three times kindly on the door
I will make a solemn pledge-o
Not to study war no more
Will I meet you at the station
Will I dream of foreign nation
Will I still be so endowed
With my wife and kids around
With the generous magic found there
Passed in parcels of gifts of gab
Yarns and poems of people who've passed through
The very county in which you stand

Will I do the young ones that service
As I was spoken to speak to them
Or shrink tall tales with chalk and pool cue
And will I think twice again?
As I meet you down at the station
I'll not dream of foreign nation
I'll not dream of foreign nation
I'll not dream of foreign nation