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Irish Post
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I wrote her name and address on the back of a cigarette pack I didn't know then that I'd never be goin' back the ferry was leaving when we pulled up to the quay When we reached Hollyhead I was as sick as I could be I didn't choose this way they made me go I was a week on the job and I wanted to go back home What I wouldn't do for a glimpse of the Christmas tree hear all your voices callin' me if I go back home again I'll just be hanging 'round Maybe next year if my ship doesn't run aground I should've listened to my brother Moran when he said I was a fool, but it's too late now and I didn't make the rules Oh, God, please have mercy on me

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