(Verse 1) Oh, young Neb was a foolish lad, With a grin so wide and manners bad, He wandered far with a hunger mean, Till he met old farmer Dean. (Verse 2) Dean grew spuds on the Emerald ground, The finest taters for miles around, Neb, the rascal, stole a sack, And Dean, well, he wanted 'em back! (Chorus) Oh, fists went flyin’, boots took aim, All for spuds, oh, what a shame! One young fool and one old hand, Fightin’ in the Irish land! (Verse 3) Neb swung first with all his might, Dean just laughed—"Ye call that a fight?" He grabbed a sack, swung it 'round, Knocked poor Neb clean to the ground. (Verse 4) Neb rolled up, spat out dirt, Kicked old Dean right in the shirt, Dean stood tall, with a farmer’s grace, Slammed a tater in Neb’s young face! (Chorus) Oh, fists went flyin’, boots took aim, All for spuds, oh, what a shame! One young fool and one old hand, Fightin’ in the Irish land! (Bridge - slow & dramatic) The fight raged on, through mud and rain, Neighbors came to watch the pain, 'Til at last, ol’ Dean did say, "Ye want me spuds? Just ask the right way!" (Verse 5 - triumphant) So Neb wiped off his bloody nose, Shook Dean’s hand, that’s how it goes, Now they drink and laugh so bold, Telling tales of spuds and gold! (Final Chorus - big & rowdy!) Oh, fists went flyin’, boots took aim, All for spuds, oh, what a shame! But now they drink, as best of men, Fighting days won’t come again! (Outro - soft & silly) So if ye steal from farmer Dean, Best be quick or don’t be seen, Or else ye’ll learn, just like Neb, Spuds ain't worth a fight to the death!
