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Thank Heavens, We are living in Rathgar'
In these days of agitators,
Isms, schisms and dictators,
When one never knows whom one is talking to;
When we've princes picking winners
And we've plumbers at golf dinners,
It's so difficult to really say who's who.
Even at our rugby dances
One's beset by vulgar glances,
And our finer sensibilities are shocked.
Upon my soul I'm not romancing,
We are more danced against than dancing,
And the flappers come and tell you they're half cocked.
So, thank heavens, we are living in Rathgar.
O the solid, quiet refinement of Rathgar,
Where we have our evening dinners,
Where we never hear of Shinners,
And even those who can't afford it have a car.
There are some quite decent suburbs, I am sure.
O Rathmines is not so bad or Terenure.
O we've heard of spots like Inchicore,
But really don't know where they are;
For, thank heavens, we are living in Rathgar.
Someone must live in Kilmainham,
So it's hardly fair to blame them,
And in Dartry they are almost civilised.
But in Fairview, goodness gracious,
Playing tennis in their braces!
In Drumcondra all their shirts are trubenised.*
Although it's worth relating,
It's really devastating,
At Baldoyle I saw my butcher in the ring.
So what with cinemas unsightly,
And the Gaiety gone twice nightly,
It's no wonder that we're proudly forced to sing ...
That, thank heavens, we are living in Rathgar.
O the solid, quiet refinement of Rathgar.
In Killester they eat cockles
And those fearful things - pigs knuckles;
But you've never heard of tripe in Grosvenor Square.
O those accents on the North side quite appal,
But they never get beyond Rathmines Town Hall.
They've so many kids in Kimmage
That they say life's just a scrimmage...
(Oh I'm tired - I'm going to the Buttery to have one ...)
So, thank heavens, we are living in Rathgar.
We have jewellers and furriers
but certainly no gurriers
Thank heavens were living in Rathgar
