The Night Club Song
Well I’ll sing of the capers of the rockers and shakers
That are out all the night ‘till the break of the day
Some just out of the cradle and more hardly able
In every night club sure they boogey away.
Well some they are arguing and some are blaguarding
And more in these clubs they are quite indiscreet
Where the lights they are flashing the music ‘tis crashing
In this latest fashion of imported beat.
Well these clubs I am stating will sure take some b(e)ating
With no band at all but a music machine
Your man stands at a table without spoon or ladle
And pours out his goods on the boogeying scene.
And it’s not surprising when the music starts rising
To see him put a muffler on each of his ears
While those that are dancing and maybe romancing
Are losing their hearing forever I fear.
Well if you must ask me or maybe attack me
For finding myself in this place so designed
Well the wife was away for the night she did say
With the ould ICA for to knit was confined.
Ah! but out in the morning without any warning
Out there on the dance-floor I was tasting new life
On the floor with a hippy there sliding and slipping
Was the shape and the make of me own darling wife.
Then in due recognition she winked in a fashion
The eyelid on my side being all that was free
Well t‘was no use us talking with the music there squalking
‘Twas then that I wished I was at a Céilí.
Then an ould lad before me had words so adoring
To say to his partner he could’nt hold out
So instead of a whisper in her ear this ould jester
Delivered his message be way of her mouth.
Well there was some oscillating and some contemplating
And some they were ating what I could’nt see
And some were still learning and I was discerning
If any young wan had an eye out for me.
Balloons from the ceiling were soon disappearing
One young lad was searching for more on the floor
When a boy with elation gave three cheers for the nation
Whose letters have lately reached this our fair shore.
Well the shapes they were making if I’m not mistaken
Would lave their legs achin for more than a year
With their jivin and boppin and leppin and hoppin
And never a trace of a jig or a reel.
If I was in Burma or maybe Uganda
Or deep in the Southern Argentine
Those dancing gyrations that the’re perpetrating
I’d not be debating in their native scene.
Well I love all set-dances the Polkas the Lancers
In Kerry the Slides up in Clare Jigs and Reels
And what’s seldom seen now like a horse with a plough
Ah! what I would’nt give for a few double wheels.
Oh! but now they are training and daily explaining
The old ways of dancing to young girls and boys
So the discos they’ll be lavin to be misbehaving
At sessions and Céilís forever me boys
After reading an article by the late Paddy Tunney in the Comhaltas magazine Treoir, on traditional ballads, I decided if I could find a suitable subject I would have a go. Having retired from the Nightclub/ Disco scene many years previously I found myself doing an errand, collecting a friend's offspring from such an institution. My eyes were opened!! The following morning I started writing while milking the cows.
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