Potato famines
Being drunk
Rocking out
Hating funk

Pimping around
Chilling green
Getting chicks
And shooting cream

They took O’Reilly to the bay
Came in the night and took him away
People listened to the sound
Of his screams for miles around

They locked him into a cell
Below the shanty by the well
Before taking him into the mist
Anyone could tell that he missed

We found O’Reilly in the street
Covered with blood apparently beat
His eyes betrayed a growing fear
In his hand was a cold green beer

At least O’Reilly was alright
We took him off into the night
As he stared into the sky
He heard the call of the Dragonfly

Well we thought he was okay
But he died the very next day
That really sucks and what a loss
There’s a line I’ll never cross