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Oh Lord, I hate the Fields of Athenry,
Low-lying though the pastures there might be.
I care not where those little free birds fly –
The whole thing’s an anathema to me.
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The tune is just as dreary as the words,
It drones along so flaccid and forlorn.
Why would the lads be arsed with little birds?
Who gives a damn about Trevellyan’s corn?
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It doesn’t really set your spirits soaring,
It doesn’t have the power to inspire.
The fields, as well as low, are pretty boring.
Please someone, set those blasted fields on fire.