Give a cheer, give a cheer
For the men who drink the beer
In the cellar of Murphy's saloon.
They are brave, they are bold
And the stories that are told
In the cellar of Murphy's saloon.
For it's guzzle, guzzle, guzzle
As they pour it down their muzzle
And shout out their orders loud and clear:
"More beer."
For it's more, more, more
As the cops break down the door
In the cellar of Murphy's saloon.
Won't you put it in your mouth Mrs. Murphy,
For it only weighs a quarter of a pound,
It's got hair on its neck like a turkey
And it spits when you rub it up and down.
If I had the wings of an eagle
And the balls of a hairy baboon,
I'd fly up to the top of the mountain
And jack off on the man in the moon.
Now you say you're still a virgin
But you're cherry is not there anymore,
So why don't you quit trying to be so perfect
And do the thing that you're best known for.
For now you've got a throat like Linda Lovelace
And a cunt like the great cathouse whore,
So why don't you please do my pecker a favor
And deep throat me on the barroom floor.
Now we've got a team called,
And peckers as long as a broom,
So won't you please do your pussy a favor
And keep us mother fuckers out of your room.
We'll eat you, beat you, and mistreat you,
While we're singing our dirtiest verse,
Then we'll stick it in your ear and dick you from the rear,
For that's how we build up our thirst.
Sung by the whore house quartet.
Did you go and get it? Not yet.
Are you gonna get it? You bet.
Who you gonna get it from? Ginnette.