Well oh well I'm back in the County Hell I just flew in and my arms they feel like hell I'm so glad to be back in the County Hell I missed the smack, I missed the crack, I missed the killings too I missed the London Irish girls but especially missed you The USA never fails to make me blue Put me in charge I'd execute the Artistic Queers And all the fuckin' bastards that drink trendy Irish beers My death squads would be kids from flats All high from sniffing glue I'd use them to kill rich Brits and the journalistic whores The park bench Aristocrats are drinking in the park And the junkies are still sneaking in for fix up after dark And Jock laid out on his park bench like it was his home settee Singin' like a fallen angel Me and Bobby McGee When I've done my patriotic chore And burnt London to the ground I'll go back home to Nenagh and get pissed every night in town Like the ol' folks say, you can't keep a good man down And the park bench Aristocrats still drinking in the park The junkies are still sneaking in for fix up after dark Jock's still layed out on his park bench like it was his own settee Singing like a fallen angel Me and Bobby McGee Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose Nothin ain't worth nothin if ain't free Feelin good was easy Lord when Bobby sang the blues Feelin good was good enough for me Good enough for me and Bobby McGee
