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The Burren’s a geological wonder
From which the people of Clare still plunder
They give many thanks
To coach loads of Yanks
Who don’t realise they’ve made a huge blunder
The hotel food’s taking the mick
But the Guinness is creamy and thick
After one quick jar
In the whiskey bar
We’re back for some musical shtick
Our first flat of the week starts the day
When the weather is fresh but grey
Soon we’re making the most
Of the wind by the coast
While fearing the turn before Galway
The coastline is just bay after bay
A treat in its own special way
We’re having a ball
Till we hit the first squall
With Kilcogan still four miles away
Sure enough when we reach Oranmore
The wind’s in our faces once more
It’s not too bad
Though I get quite sad
At all the houses they’ve built by the shore
Irish planning must be a game
Every house different, yet all much the same
The clash of styles
Goes on for miles
And, as usual, no-one’s to blame
Mark makes us work for our lunch
About the weather he has this hunch
In the middle of Spiddal
We can fiddle and diddle
While the storm passes by, as we munch
Then the rain comes lashin’, splish-splashin’
Down the road in the Galway fashion
By the end we’ve blown dry
But my oh my
That’s more than my usual ration.
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