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Dicey Reilly 
Dicey Reilly
 Oh poor old Dicey Reilly, she has taken to the sup And poor old Dicey Reilly, she will never give it up It's off each morning to the pop that she goes in
 for another little drop But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly 
She will walk along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air And then its down by Summerhill, and as the people stare She'll say, "It's nearly half passed one Time I went in for another little one But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly Now at two, pubs close and out she goes as happy as a lark She'll find a bench to sleep it off at St. Patrick's Park She'll wake at five feeling in the pink And say, "Tis time for another drink But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly 
Now she'll travel far to a dockside bar to have another round And after one or two or three she doesn't feel quite so sound After four she's a bit unstable After five underneath the table But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly 
Oh they carry her home at twelve o'clock as they do every night Bring her inside, put her on the bed and then turn out the light Next morning she'll get out of bed And look for a cure for her head But the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly SOF