Rifles of the IRA

[Instrumental intro – Fast 4/4 Reel, Fiddle & Bodhrán] – Spirited call to attention [Verse 1 – Driving reel, Fiddle lead, Bustling atmosphere] Down by the quay at the crack o’ the dawn I met Shay-muss in a borrowed beret, He saluted a lamppost solemnly sayin’ “Aye, that captain’s late fer parade today.” He’d fashioned two rifles from broomsticks an’ twine, An’ swore they were polished wit’ porridge brine. He marched past a bakery bold an’ grand, Mistook a tray o’ scones fer a brass band. “Fall in!” he roared at a startled cat, An’ tripped on a cabbage, imagine that. [Pre-chorus 1 – Narrative gear shift, Rising intensity] The townsfolk blinked, unsure what ta do, For he’d drawn a map on a napkin askew. “Forward, me lads!” he cried wit’ a grin, Though the only recruit was a startled tin. [Chorus 1 – Unifying anthem, High energy, Full instrumentation] Oh the rifles o’ glory were clatterin’ bright, But they squeaked like a gate in the hush o’ the night. We marched wit’ a swagger an’ tripped on a chair, While Shay-muss declared “’Tis strategic flair!” The whistle went shrill though no one had blown it, An’ the drummer kept time on a bucket an’ stone it. Raise yer voice, give a theatrical roar, For the rifles were mop handles bought at a store. [Verse 2 – Chaos intensifies, New characters, Sound effects] Then Molly the baker came stormin’ outside, Wavin’ a rolling pin twice her stride. She slipped on a croissant, spun like a top, An’ saluted the pigeon atop the shop. Old Fergus arrived wit’ spectacles wide, Claimin’ he’d trained in a shed at the tide. He aimed at a barrel, winked at the moon, An’ launched a potato that hummed a tune. [Pre-chorus 2 – Comedic remark, Musical build-up] “Steady!” cried Shay-muss, consultin’ a spoon, “For battle commences precisely at noon!” Yet the church bell rang at half past three, An’ we’d conquered a crate o’ green tea. [Chorus 2 – Unifying anthem, New last two lines] Oh the rifles o’ legend were rattlin’ proud, Though a duck led the march an’ quacked too loud. We paraded past windows reflectin’ our might, Each shadow salutin’ a glorious sight. The whistle went shrill though no one had blown it, An’ the drummer kept time on a bucket an’ stone it. Stand tall, me hearties, puff out yer chest, For the rifles were broomsticks dressed in a vest. [Verse 3 – Ridiculous climax, High energy] A fog rolled in like theatrical smoke, An’ Shay-muss declared “’Tis destiny’s cloak!” He charged at a windmill spinnin’ serene, Mistook it fer cavalry, bold an’ keen. The sails gave a whoosh that flattened his hat, An’ he blamed sabotage from a territorial rat. We formed a line by a startled cow, Who chewed her cud an’ took a bow. [Pre-chorus 3 – Final gear shift, Peak tension] “Hold firm!” he cried wit’ a wobblin’ boot, As the bodhrán rattled like a falling flute. “Victory’s near!” he shouted in glee, While surrendering politely ta a tree. [Chorus 3 – Maximum energy, New last two lines] Oh the rifles o’ thunder rang out in song, Though the echo replied “Ye’re holdin’ ’em wrong!” We marched in a circle, heroic an’ grand, An’ saluted a statue wit’ jam on its hand. The whistle went shrill though no one had blown it, An’ the drummer kept time on a bucket an’ stone it. Three cheers rang out fer valor so fine, Though we’d captured a fence made o’ washing line. [Bridge – Twist/Reveal, Melody/Atmosphere shift] But ah sure when the fog lifted light as a sigh, We spotted a banner flappin’ nearby. It read “Annual Fancy Dress Fair,” An’ judges were scribblin’ notes in a chair. Shay-muss blinked slow, adjusted his sash, Realizin’ his rifles were props made o’ ash. “Begorra,” he whispered, scratchin’ his ear, “First prize includes sandwiches an’ root beer.” [Chorus reprise – Variation, Crowd interaction] So the rifles o’ raffle were lifted on high, As the crowd threw confetti shaped like a pie. We stomped an’ we laughed till the rafters would shake, While Molly awarded a glitterin’ cake. The whistle went shrill now proudly blown, An’ the bucket percussion had found a throne. Sing loud, me lads, let the mayhem resound, For the daftest parade took the laurel crown. [Final chorus – Grand finale, Full pub chaos] Oh the rifles o’ revelry shimmered at last, Though one lost its trigger an’ flew too fast. We toasted wit’ stout in jubilant style, An’ Shay-muss attempted a dignified smile. The fiddle spun sparks like a runaway star, An’ the banjo applauded from near the bar. Aye lift up yer chorus, let harmony soar, For the boldest battalion won pastries galore. [Outro – Comedic final image, Sudden stop] Shay-muss saluted the duck wit’ grace, The duck promoted him on the spot, just in case, An’ the rifles were hung by the pastry case.