In the spirit of St. Patty’s day…

An old Irish song..
it’s been passed down from generation to generation
From father to son
To the boys on the verge of manhood
it’s called “Down to the Ole Pub Instead”

Lad it’s your duty to find ye a lass
With child-bearin’ hips and a pink supple ass
And make her your wife and love her with love so true

Now some rivers run high, some rivers run low
When her river runs read then she’s startin’ her flow
And it’s called “menstration” and here’s what it means to you..

You will notice her bloomers are spotty at first
Stand back! her ovarion dam’s gonna burst
But don’t be afraid, it’s a natural t’ing
Just wad up some cotton and hand her some string
Put the ole linens on top of the bed, get out of the house and go down to the ole pub instead

She’ll retain her water, her breasts will be tender
And every third word that you say will offend her
Get out of the house & down to the ole pub instead

And she’ll want to make love, if you do, you’re a fool
Cuz you’ll only end up with a bloody O’Toole
Get out of the house & down to the ole pub instead

And she’ll want you to sample the fruit of her loins
But, son, it’ll taste like some old rusty coins

So turn off the light, boy, and take off your hat
And drop to your knees, say a prayer to St. Pat
He will give you the strength to get out of the bed
And for Ireland’s sake, go down to the ole pub instead

Now the pub is the place where the lads are a’meetin’
When the moon’s full and the gals are a’bleedin’
The catholic, the protestant, even the pagaen
The pub is the place when your lady is raggin’
So drink of your pint, boys, and thank your shamrocks
That as menfolk we don’t have to bleed from our cocks
And that we can escape from the lady in red
And get out of the house and go down to the ole pub instead