The Town Karnteel

The Town Karnteel! It's who'll reveal     Its praises jushtifiable?     For who can sing av anything     So lovely and reliable?     Whin Summer, Spring, or Winter lies     From Malin's Head to Tipperary,     There's no such town for interprise     Bechuxt Youghal and Londonderry!     There's not its likes in Ireland -     For twic't the week, be gorries!     They're playing jigs upon the band,     And joomping there in sacks - and - and -     And racing, wid wheelborries!     Kanteel - it's there, like any fair,     The purty gurrls is plinty, sure!     And man-alive! At forty-five     The leg's av me air twinty, sure!     I lave me cares, and hoein' too,     Behint me, as is sinsible,     And it's Karnteel I'm goin' to,     To cilebrate in principle!     For there's the town av all the land!     And twic't the week, be-gorries!     They're playing jigs upon the band,     And joomping there in sacks - and - and -     And racing, wid wheelborries!     And whilst I feel for owld Karnteel     That I've no phrases glorious,     It stands above the need av love     That boasts in voice uproarious!     Lave that for Cork, and Dublin too,     And Armagh and Killarney thin,     And Karnteel won't be troublin' you     Wid any jilous blarney, thin!     For there's the town av all the land     Where twic't the week, be-gorries!     They're playing jigs upon the band,     And joomping there in sacks - and - and -     And racing, wid wheelborries!