I knew Danny Farrell when his football was a can
With his hand-me-downs and Welliers and his sandwiches of bran
But now that pavement peasant is a full grown bitter man
With all the trials and troubles of his travelling people's clan
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man
I knew Danny Farrell when he joined the National School
He was lousy at the Gaelic, they'd call him amadán - a fool
He was brilliant in the toss school by trading objects in the p***
By the time he was an adult all his charming ways had gone
I knew Danny Farrell when we queued up for the dole
And he tried to hide the loss of pride that eats away the soul
But mending pots and kettles is a trade lost in the past
"There's no hand-out here for tinkers" was the answer when he asked
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man
I still know Danny Farrell, saw him just there yesterday
Taking methylated spirits with some wino's on the quay
Oh, he's forty going on eighty, with his eyes of hope bereft
And he told me this for certain, there's not many of us left
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man
With his hand-me-downs and Welliers and his sandwiches of bran
But now that pavement peasant is a full grown bitter man
With all the trials and troubles of his travelling people's clan
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man
I knew Danny Farrell when he joined the National School
He was lousy at the Gaelic, they'd call him amadán - a fool
He was brilliant in the toss school by trading objects in the p***
By the time he was an adult all his charming ways had gone
I knew Danny Farrell when we queued up for the dole
And he tried to hide the loss of pride that eats away the soul
But mending pots and kettles is a trade lost in the past
"There's no hand-out here for tinkers" was the answer when he asked
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man
I still know Danny Farrell, saw him just there yesterday
Taking methylated spirits with some wino's on the quay
Oh, he's forty going on eighty, with his eyes of hope bereft
And he told me this for certain, there's not many of us left
He's a loser, a boozer, a me and you user
A raider, a trader, a people police hater
So lonely and only, what you'd call a gurrier
Still now, Danny Farrell, he's a man