Lyrics to Poca Mahoney's
Well, the other evening round at Poca Mahoney's
Usual cronies were lurking there
A suped up pansy and a delinquent dandy
Next to Link Man Wray, mutterings on the stairs, saying
It's not a question of our Lord
It's more a question of, oh
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
Same time next week round at Poca Mahoneys
Other cronies waiting there
Miss Sax-Coburg-Gotha
The Duchess of Noscha
A dead ringer for Link Man Wray
Mumbling on the stairs
It's not a question of
Oh no, it's more a question of
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
My little soul was five years old
Mother fucker turned me to stone
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
Usual cronies were lurking there
A suped up pansy and a delinquent dandy
Next to Link Man Wray, mutterings on the stairs, saying
It's not a question of our Lord
It's more a question of, oh
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
Same time next week round at Poca Mahoneys
Other cronies waiting there
Miss Sax-Coburg-Gotha
The Duchess of Noscha
A dead ringer for Link Man Wray
Mumbling on the stairs
It's not a question of
Oh no, it's more a question of
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
My little soul was five years old
Mother fucker turned me to stone
Man of the cloak, priest, bishop or pope
Mother fucker, Poca Mahone
