[Intro] [Instrumental] [Verse 1] From Galway roads to Boston rain A builder of words kept a pub in his name Sarsfield’s fire and a welcome at the door A corner of Ireland carried overseas once more [Chorus] Raise your glass at the virtual pub Pull up a chair, let the old talk rub No velvet rope, no whispering wall Make your case and let the free voices call [Verse 2] Forums rose where the arguments ran Politics, comments, the written word’s span When one door closed, another appeared Through years of departures, the regulars steered [Chorus] Raise your glass at the virtual pub Pull up a chair, let the old talk rub No velvet rope, no whispering wall Make your case and let the free voices call [Verse 3] Youngdan on the radio, voices on the line A story from the island crossing county and time A channel still rolling, a place to be heard A room made larger every time someone’s word [Bridge] Marcus at the table, remembered with care Coal Gas and Peat still has a chair there Val by the roadside, Brian with a book Names may change, but the readers still look [Chorus] Raise your glass at the virtual pub Pull up a chair, let the old talk rub Catholic or skeptic, every view in the hall Keep it straight, keep it civil, make room for them all [Verse 4] Not many rules and no paid parade Just ordinary people and the promises made If a quarrel gets bitter, let the silence begin There’s no prize for shouting, no glory in the din [Verse 5] Gaeilge is welcome, bring the old tongue through With respect in the lines and good manners too From Galway to Boston, the welcome stays bright A stubborn little forum keeping watch through the night [Final Chorus] Raise your glass at the virtual pub Pull up a chair, let the old talk rub No velvet rope, no whispering wall Make your case and let the free voices call Raise your glass at the virtual pub Let the stories travel farther than the roads ever could [Outro] [Instrumental]
