Head to Temple bar
down cobbled streets
Singing along to distant beats
From basement night clubs crammed with bodies swaying
People enjoying city life and staying
for the weekend in Dublin city.
Where the girls are so pretty
Teetering in high heels
For pints in O’neills
Tapping on their mobile phone
On streets where once walked Molly Malone.
She didn’t own Manolos or Jimmy choos
Impractical and expensive shoes
Not designed for walking very far
Only meant for car to bar.
They’re all so Alive alive oh
As they go with the flow
Drinking cider and fat frogs
Not Guinness or hair of the dog
Like people in days gone by.
I can almost hear the cry
At their sophisticated ways.