Us poor old Irish farmers, our future now in doubt.
That's why we drive our tractors in the streets and all about.
Farmers
here in Ireland are so very poor, to survive upon the farm you'd want to be a cute hoor.
The greatest hoors in Ireland, the T.Ds in the Dail,
They really have the farmers backs up against the wall.
Your
one she does be talking, late into the night,
While the poor old farmer sinking deeper into shite.
Chorus
Us poor old Irish farmers, our future now in doubt.
That's why we drive our tractors in the streets and all
about.
Farmers here in Ireland are so very poor, to survive upon the farm you'd want to be a cute hoor.
Oh family farm survival that's why we're here today.
Ah support the farmer to get a better pay.
The poor old
farmer his income is so small.
It's hardly worth his while getting out of bed at all.
Repeat Chorus.
Us poor old Irish farmers, our future now in doubt.
That's why we drive our tractors in the streets
and all about.
Farmers here in Ireland are so very poor, to survive upon the farm you'd want to be a cute hoor.
''We're in O'Connell Street now lads, ah, did you bring the dung spreader.
I did and it's full of shite''
The quare ones up in Dublin, they really think they're great,
Only for the farmers they'd have near an egg to eat.
John
Dillon, now the president, I'd like to wish you luck,
The other quare ones up in Dublin they don't give a f---
Us poor old Irish farmers, our future now in doubt.
That's why we drive our tractors in the streets and all about.
Farmers
here in Ireland are so very poor, to survive upon the farm you'd want to be a cute hoor.
Mind the spike, that's not a spike, it's a tooth for a buck rake.
You'd want a quare big bale O'Hay for that lad, that's
right
and that's the truth.
