Evening on the Suez Canal

Evening on the Suez Canal and not a pint of Guinness to be seen
the dark peat strain of an Irish night locked up tight
between the ears a blood red beret keeping the lid
on stars come down to look out from archways and porticoes

rooftops too you might imagine Oh the cream at the top
of a glass sure isn't it the imperial pint you're after
well isn't it the imperial pint of oil that brought us here mate
and what are we doing here at all dressed up for a cold

mountain night with no hope of a turf fire when all the world
burns morning noon and teatime 'Tis cold enough at sundown
sure and the smokin' chimneys no more and the biscuits
broken in the saucer the cows in their lower field

with the old man takin' one last nip before he retrieves
the well-darned socks from the soot-black bar
over the embers 'Tis here in the gut now the fire
spices ground up in the devil's own kitchen

don'tcha know be jaysus paprika and cumin cayenne
and the little children chasin' after our heels
like dark sparks all day where d'ye s'pose
they put their heads where's their mammies

and that flowered water they gave us now back
at the little café them pointing to the vine climbing
up the walls the flowers too comin' down like stars
wouldn't a pint of Guinness go down beautifully now!