Bout ye! I’m Mickey, the black taxi driver

I love to give ma passengers a slegin.

Of course ma love, I’ll drive ye home,

But yer not to bring that feg in.

Ma dear Siobhan, catch yerself on.

Of course I know where am goin’.

Ave bin drivin fer years, and a promise ye soon.

Will be at yer wee house in sunny Lenadoon.

Last week I picked some tourists up and asked them

“what brings ye to good oul Norn Iron?”

“It is friendly and nice”, was their reply.

For thirty years they’d bin admirin’.

They had come to visit all the way from Japan,

I told them, “If ye ever need a taxi, then I’ll be yer man!”

Last night I picked a drunk man up, who seemed like he hadn’t a care.

But all was well till we reached his home, he hadn’t the feckin fare.

I could feel my temper about to burst as we shouted, fought and cursed.

“Pay me the fare, ye feckin eejit!”, was my reaction to him.

And with a glint of an evil eye, he threatened to knock ma pan in.

“Wind yer neck in, get outta ma taxi, before I call the peelers“.

I must admit I’ve had enough, I’m sick of drunks and dealers.

Wish I was from somewhere posher

Think I’ll go back to being a windee washer.

So next time yer in town, think of me, poor wee driver Mickey.

But ye’ll not see me tamarra, for am gonna pull a sickie!