She laughs and she leaves and thon whispering hoor
That's sat strumming and squinting fernenst the side door
For the whole of the evening takes off after her
With his gap year hung limp tween his legs
And the fella beside me, he turns to me
With the lent ash all swept off the crest of his brow
Says she's the loudest when quietest sometimes
Closer the further she be's
Thon cunt from Kilraughts is up gurning again
G'is a pound for a pounding them songs never end
Out back the Bush bogs with some gits from the glens
"Here, d'you mind when they torched Patton's fields?"
F*ck sake, sir, what's in that shite that you're drinking?
There's more boot in them bastards there than you'd think
And his face hung in ropes down the side of the sink
And she says "Let him hang till he yields"
The flags all a-flutterin' and flailing in time
To a limp tattoo beat cross the base of my spine
Down Linenehall Street with an old friend of mine
And a lungful of counterfeit smoke
The full of my arse on the wet station steps
And my back 'gainst the door, I locked hands and I slept
Dreamt then the black henna Virgin that wept
Down my arm in a lie I once told
Closer the Further She Be's Video (MV)
Aaron McMullan - Closer the Further She Be's Lyrics
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English
She laughs and she leaves and thon whispering hoor
That's sat strumming and squinting fernenst the side door
For the whole of the evening takes off after her
With his gap year hung limp tween his legs
And the fella beside me, he turns to me
With the lent ash all swept off the crest of his brow
Says she's the loudest when quietest sometimes
Closer the further she be's
Thon cunt from Kilraughts is up gurning again
G'is a pound for a pounding them songs never end
Out back the Bush bogs with some gits from the glens
"Here, d'you mind when they torched Patton's fields?"
F*ck sake, sir, what's in that shite that you're drinking?
There's more boot in them bastards there than you'd think
And his face hung in ropes down the side of the sink
And she says "Let him hang till he yields"
The flags all a-flutterin' and flailing in time
To a limp tattoo beat cross the base of my spine
Down Linenehall Street with an old friend of mine
And a lungful of counterfeit smoke
The full of my arse on the wet station steps
And my back 'gainst the door, I locked hands and I slept
Dreamt then the black henna Virgin that wept
Down my arm in a lie I once told
That's sat strumming and squinting fernenst the side door
For the whole of the evening takes off after her
With his gap year hung limp tween his legs
And the fella beside me, he turns to me
With the lent ash all swept off the crest of his brow
Says she's the loudest when quietest sometimes
Closer the further she be's
Thon cunt from Kilraughts is up gurning again
G'is a pound for a pounding them songs never end
Out back the Bush bogs with some gits from the glens
"Here, d'you mind when they torched Patton's fields?"
F*ck sake, sir, what's in that shite that you're drinking?
There's more boot in them bastards there than you'd think
And his face hung in ropes down the side of the sink
And she says "Let him hang till he yields"
The flags all a-flutterin' and flailing in time
To a limp tattoo beat cross the base of my spine
Down Linenehall Street with an old friend of mine
And a lungful of counterfeit smoke
The full of my arse on the wet station steps
And my back 'gainst the door, I locked hands and I slept
Dreamt then the black henna Virgin that wept
Down my arm in a lie I once told
Writer: Aaron McMullan
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid