The Legend of Flanagan’s

celtic folk, irish drinking song, triumphant, anthemic chorus

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[Intro — full band, crowd already cheering before vocals start]
[Verse 1]
They say a man walked into Flanagan’s one night
With nothing but blarney and Bushmills and spite
They say he told limericks that singed the old walls
They say he charmed women and tripped on his balls
[Pre-Chorus]
I think that mad cunt may have been me — hard to say
I remember some parts like a dream far away
[Chorus]
But I’m a legend now lads, a legend I say
I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday
They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door
I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for
But I’m a fucking legend now lads, pour one for the ghost
Of the man that I was on that night I remember the most
[Verse 2]
Old Brennan says I danced on the bar without shoes
Says Siobhán from the hills finally got to choose
She picked me apparently — for what, no one’s sure
But the way that they tell it, I must’ve been pure
[Pre-Chorus]
I remember a laugh and a chest and a light
And buying a round for every cunt in the place that night
[Chorus]
But I’m a legend now lads, a legend I say
I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday
They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door
I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for
But I’m a fucking legend now lads, pour one for the ghost
Of the man that I was on that night I remember the most
[Bridge — uilleann pipes swell, spoken over slow build]
(spoken)
Seamus framed the limerick. The one I wrote on me own chest.
It hangs above the bar now.
It says:
“Here sat a man of great beauty and class
Who talked to a woman about something or gas
He bought the whole round
Then fell on the ground
And woke the next morning with gravel in his arse”
I didn’t write that last fucking line. That was Brennan.
…But it’s perfect. The cunt got it exactly right.
[Verse 3]
Now every young fella that walks through that door
Wants to be what they say I was — maybe more
They try to do limericks, they fumble their lines
They eye up the women and order shit wines
[Pre-Chorus]
And I sit on me stool with a nod and a smile
And say “son, let me show you what’s done with some style”
[Final Chorus — anthemic, whole pub roaring]
‘Cause I’m a legend now lads, a fucking legend I say
I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday
They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door
I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for
But I’m a legend now lads — and legends don’t die
We just get more pints and more sparkle in the eye!
[Outro — full band, crowd stomping, fiddle going wild]
To the legend of Flanagan’s — whoever he was!
To the legend of Flanagan’s — it was me, because—
(voice trails off)
…I think it was me.
…Seamus, was it me, ya mad cunt?
[Fiddle riff fades out, crowd laughing, door swings shut]

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[Intro — full band, crowd already cheering before vocals start] [Verse 1] They say a man walked into Flanagan’s one night With nothing but blarney and Bushmills and spite They say he told limericks that singed the old walls They say he charmed women and tripped on his balls [Pre-Chorus] I think that mad cunt may have been me — hard to say I remember some parts like a dream far away [Chorus] But I’m a legend now lads, a legend I say I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for But I’m a fucking legend now lads, pour one for the ghost Of the man that I was on that night I remember the most [Verse 2] Old Brennan says I danced on the bar without shoes Says Siobhán from the hills finally got to choose She picked me apparently — for what, no one’s sure But the way that they tell it, I must’ve been pure [Pre-Chorus] I remember a laugh and a chest and a light And buying a round for every cunt in the place that night [Chorus] But I’m a legend now lads, a legend I say I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for But I’m a fucking legend now lads, pour one for the ghost Of the man that I was on that night I remember the most [Bridge — uilleann pipes swell, spoken over slow build] (spoken) Seamus framed the limerick. The one I wrote on me own chest. It hangs above the bar now. It says: “Here sat a man of great beauty and class Who talked to a woman about something or gas He bought the whole round Then fell on the ground And woke the next morning with gravel in his arse” I didn’t write that last fucking line. That was Brennan. …But it’s perfect. The cunt got it exactly right. [Verse 3] Now every young fella that walks through that door Wants to be what they say I was — maybe more They try to do limericks, they fumble their lines They eye up the women and order shit wines [Pre-Chorus] And I sit on me stool with a nod and a smile And say “son, let me show you what’s done with some style” [Final Chorus — anthemic, whole pub roaring] ‘Cause I’m a legend now lads, a fucking legend I say I can’t remember Monday but I own Saturday They raise up their glasses whenever I walk through the door I’m the man of the story — even I don’t know what for But I’m a legend now lads — and legends don’t die We just get more pints and more sparkle in the eye! [Outro — full band, crowd stomping, fiddle going wild] To the legend of Flanagan’s — whoever he was! To the legend of Flanagan’s — it was me, because— (voice trails off) …I think it was me. …Seamus, was it me, ya mad cunt? [Fiddle riff fades out, crowd laughing, door swings shut]

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