AN IRISH PUB SONG – The Rumjacks / That’s magic, they’re kicking Irishman out of an Irish pub for being Irish.

There’s this great new place opening nearby, let’s go and check it out.

The best pubs and bars in Dublin? https://www.visitdublin.com/ Whether you’re after a velvety pint of Guinness, the sweet, or live Irish music in a candlelit café, we have good news: craft beer joints are on the rise. Outside there’s a touch of late-Victorian exuberance, and within the main bar is nicely sociable. Yes. You’re welcome into the most agreeable of Dublin’s old-time boozers, Neary’s http://www.nearys.ie/ it’s perfect on a mid-week evening. You to can have the ploughman’s lunch (a nice traditional bread with lots of ham, Branston pickle and some cheddar).

Born in Scotland from an Irish background, so there was his exposure to the the music, the humour and the characters. This say Rumjacks frontman, Frankie McLaughlin. They have embarked upon two sold out European tours (he first European tour in 2015 featured the legendary Jarocin Festival in Poland, and the enigmatic Boomtown Fair UK). Formed in 2008 the band combine a variety of musical influences (including elements traditional celtic folk). THE RUMJACKS are a punk rock/celtic folk band from Sydney (Australia). After some early line up changes, the band maintained their line up (McLaughlin, McKelvey, drummer Anthony Matters, guitarist Gabriel Whitbourne and banjo/mandolin/bouzouki player Adam Kenny).

AN IRISH PUB SONG – There’s a county map to go on the wall, a hurling stick & a shinty ball. The bric, the brac, the craic & all. Lets call it an Irish pub. Caffreys, Harp, Kilkenny on tap the Guinness pie & that cabbage crap the ideal wannabee Paddy trap we’ll call it an Irish pub. Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book, the only ‘craic’ you’ll get is a slap in the ear. Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I’ll up & burst yer filthy mug, if you draw one more shamrock in me beer! We’ll raise the price o’ beer a dollar. We’ll make em wear a shirt & collar. We’ll fly a bloody tri-colour and call it an Irish pub. Jager bombs & double shots, the underagers think its tops we’ll spike the drinks & pay the cops we got us an Irish pub. The quick one in the filthy bog, the partin’ glass across the lug. O’ the lady-O, the dirty dog. We got us an Irish pub, it’s over to me and over to you. We’ll skip along the Avenue, and who t’hell is Ronnie Drew? We got us an Irish pub.

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