Not everybody has a SSIA
It won’t be too long till we’re all feeling flush,
And by golly, we’re counting the days.
The banks won’t be able to handle the crush
When we queue for our SSIAs.
We’ll be buying new motors and building extensions,
Jetting abroad for artistic conventions,
Dining out daily and topping up pensions,
And we’ll all act a little bit flash.
They’ll keep the shops open all day and all night
To cash in on Ireland’s new wealth.
Champagne corks will pop to an excessive height,
As we drink to our financial health.
We’ll be counting out notes with our palms hot and sweaty,
Twirling them round on our forks like spaghetti,
Throwing them up in the air like confetti,
When we all get a hold of our stash.
Knee-deep in money, we’ll wade through the land,
With great wads sticking out of our coats.
And sitting room walls will look stylish and grand
When they’re papered with ten Euro notes.
The good times are coming, we’ll be in the pink,
We’re all going to spend a small fortune on drink,
Your missus will hoover the house wearing mink,
And your car will look sporty and brash.
All through the country, there’ll be such a buzz
When our SSIAs all mature.
We’ll all come up roses, though many of us
Might still catch the whiff of manure.
No need to be stingy, from that great day hence,
We’ll hand out the plastic with great confidence,
Oh, we might well have Euros, but will we have cents
When we all get our hands on the cash?
But out there, forgotten, are thousands of folk
Who will not share our celebrations.
Half of the country is constantly broke,
As if there were two different nations.
That old Celtic tiger passed by, round the bend
For those who weren’t part of the general trend,
And they will look on as we spend, spend and spend,
Displaying our bounteous panache.
And by golly, we’re counting the days.
The banks won’t be able to handle the crush
When we queue for our SSIAs.
We’ll be buying new motors and building extensions,
Jetting abroad for artistic conventions,
Dining out daily and topping up pensions,
And we’ll all act a little bit flash.
They’ll keep the shops open all day and all night
To cash in on Ireland’s new wealth.
Champagne corks will pop to an excessive height,
As we drink to our financial health.
We’ll be counting out notes with our palms hot and sweaty,
Twirling them round on our forks like spaghetti,
Throwing them up in the air like confetti,
When we all get a hold of our stash.
Knee-deep in money, we’ll wade through the land,
With great wads sticking out of our coats.
And sitting room walls will look stylish and grand
When they’re papered with ten Euro notes.
The good times are coming, we’ll be in the pink,
We’re all going to spend a small fortune on drink,
Your missus will hoover the house wearing mink,
And your car will look sporty and brash.
All through the country, there’ll be such a buzz
When our SSIAs all mature.
We’ll all come up roses, though many of us
Might still catch the whiff of manure.
No need to be stingy, from that great day hence,
We’ll hand out the plastic with great confidence,
Oh, we might well have Euros, but will we have cents
When we all get our hands on the cash?
But out there, forgotten, are thousands of folk
Who will not share our celebrations.
Half of the country is constantly broke,
As if there were two different nations.
That old Celtic tiger passed by, round the bend
For those who weren’t part of the general trend,
And they will look on as we spend, spend and spend,
Displaying our bounteous panache.
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