Christy Moore Musha God Help Her
Ah Sure, musha, God help her,
She's in an awful state,
She's got that husband fellow's run away,
A teenage daughter in the family way,
And she can't pay her bills to nobody.
Poor Mrs. Donoghue,
Out there by Ballynew,
She used to be a King from Davitt Street,
All of them were spotless in their parent's home,
Till she got married to that animal.
According to all accounts,
They never go to Mass,
He's with that young one out in Ballyhack,
She don't have a stitch across her back,
But she can well afford to drink.
I really don't know,
What's to become of them?
All the street is up in arms at them,
They make more noise than an army,
When she starts throwing all the cups at him.
I really wouldn't mind,
If they were friendly,
But they don't say hello to nobody,
You'd really think that they were somebody,
It makes me laugh you know,
At the back of it all.
Ah sure musha, God help her,
She's in an awful state,
She's got that husband fellows run away,
A teenage daughter in the family way,
And she don't pay her bills to nobody.