Verse 1
Oh the pub door slammed at half past nine,
And in strutted this Brit,
With his fancy coat, his shiny shoes,
And his chin stuck out a bit.
He said, “Good evening, Irish lads,
I’m here to drink you down!”
We laughed so hard the barman choked
And nearly drowned his bloody stout.
Chorus
🎶 So raise your pints, ya filthy lot,
Let’s sing ’til throats are sore!
For the Brit who bragged he’d drink us dry,
But crawled face-first to the floor!
We’ll drink and shout and curse about,
And laugh ’til dawn is bright,
For the Irish rule the drinkin’ halls
And the Brits? They shite at fights! 🎶
⸻
Verse 2
He ordered up a Guinness pint,
Then stared like it was cursed—
Said, “Does it always look like mud?
I fear it may be… dense.”
We said, “It’s black and bold and beautiful,
Not your weak-ass London piss!”
He took a sip and coughed so hard
He nearly vomited on a miss.
Bridge 1 – Shout-Along
🎶 Hey! Ho!
Watch him go!
The Brit can’t hold his drink!
Three sips in, his eyes rolled back,
He’s pinker than we think! 🎶
⸻
Verse 3
He tried to dance an Irish reel,
Lord save us from the sight—
He flopped around like a dying eel
Who’d lost the will to fight.
He yelled, “This music’s far too fast!”
We yelled, “Your legs are shite!”
He tripped, he slipped, he hit the floor—
We cheered: “Another British knight!”
Chorus
🎶 So raise your pints, ya drunken gobs,
Let’s roar this pub tonight!
For the Brit who said we’re uncivilized,
Then passed out from one pint!
We’ll drink ’til we can’t see the bar,
We’ll drink ’til dawn’s first light,
For the Irish keep their liquor strong,
And the Brits? … They just might bite! 🎶
⸻
Verse 4 – The Roast Gets Meaner
He bragged about his Queen and tea,
His posture stiff and tall,
We said, “Sit down, your Majesty,
Before ye bloody fall!”
He claimed he once drank twelve whole beers,
We said, “Twelve? In your whole life?”
He said, “No, that was last Christmas Eve,”
We said, “Christ, go ask your wife!”
Bridge 2 – Call & Response
Irish Crowd: What’s he drink?
Leader: Warm beer!
Irish Crowd: Why’s he slow?
Leader: No gear!
Irish Crowd: Can he hang?
Leader: Not here!
All: SEND THE BRIT BACK HOME!
⸻
Verse 5 – The Finale Chaos
He woke up slumped on barroom tiles,
Said, “Bloody hell… what day?”
We said, “It’s still tonight, my lad,
You’ve only been down an hour today.”
He crawled outside, he kissed the ground,
He whispered, “I concede!”
We said, “We’ll toast you anyway—
You’re Irish now… in need.”
⸻
Final Chorus – Louder, Ruder, Rowdier
🎶 So raise your pints, you mad bastards,
And scream it through the night!
For the Brit who came to challenge us
And surrendered without a fight!
We’ll drink and swear and stomp the floor,
We’ll howl with pure delight,
For the Irish lead the drunken world—
And the Brits? … They’re shite at pints! 🎶
Haymaker
