A young Celtic lad named Ricky
Left Ireland at night, so tricky
He wound up in New York
But he left Eire right from Cork
Stowaway’s can’t really be too picky

I’m going to go out on a limb
Chance of being wrong, quite slim
You see, Ricky boy is Wanted
Leaving home like he’s undaunted
With all that he owned upon him

See he had a dangerous streak
Drank and fought most of each week
He slept with the wrong lady
Who’s husband, who quite shady
Found her dating, Rick’s nose gave a tweak

Liking travel, adventure and such
He’d gotten hisself in Dutch
Ricky sailed off for the States
Though running he just hates
Preferred livin’ to dyin’, by much

In the States he was up to his tricks
Wooin’ ladies both worldly and hicks
He’d bed any gal willin’
His life was too thrillin’
In a country with hatred of Micks

Seems the gent he cuckolded in Erin
Sought revenge and he’d have it I’m swearin’
He sent spies and his goons
Checkin’ flophouses, saloons
Tho’ our Rick, he weren’t much for carin’

So the moral Ricky learned from this poet
Sure he learned it quite well, don’t you know it
Was to avoid Irish writers
They really are blighters
Holding grudges quite long but don’t show it

Now Ricky’s got one leg to stand on
My brother’s they just laid a hand on
Ricky learned how to beg
As they took off his leg
And shipped it back home to me, Brandon