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The Elders
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Torchy Doyle
was looking at some old photographs
Came across an old one
With my Granddad sitting on a horse and cart
I remember stories wild so wild they would always last
It was said he was a bruiser
Drinking barley from the glass
He was a hardy fighting drinking man
Working every bone till it breaks
No Dublin man could ever shake his hand
Breaking all the glass in the window pane
He could feel no more
Behind that rugged mask this Man
He loved the windy sand and shore
Tis time to take him home
Regrets he had a few if none
Working in the mines driving trucks through the dirt
On the cliffs no man could stand
Torchy Doyle was the name
They gave this long and lanky Irish Man
He was feared yet loved by most
Only one could understand
He was a hardy fighting drinking man
Working every bone till it breaks
No Dublin man could ever shake his hand
Breaking all the glass in the window pane
He could feel no more
Behind that rugged mask this Man
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He loved the windy sand and shore
Tis time to take him home
His nose he broke so many times
All the fights and the battles in the fields
In the bed he was so kind
Buy a jar at the end they smile in case he change his mind
Torchy Doyle you are the man
Only one could understand
He was a hardy fighting drinking man
Working every bone till it breaks
No Dublin man could ever shake his hand
Breaking all the glass in the window pane
He could feel no more
Behind that rugged mask this Man
He loved the windy sand and shore
Tis time to take him home
He was a hardy fighting drinking man
Working every bone till it breaks
No Dublin man could ever shake his hand
Breaking all the glass in the window pane
He could feel no more
Behind that rugged mask this Man
He loved the windy sand and shore
Tis time to take him home
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