The Deportees Club - Christy Moore

At the Arrividerci Roma night club bar and grill

Standing in the fibre-glass ruin watching time stand still

All your troubles you’ll confess

To another faceless, backless dress

Schnapps, Chianti, Porter and Ouzo

Pernod Vodka, Sambuca, I love you so poor deportee

There’s a fading beauty talking in riddles

Rome burns down and everybody fiddles

The poor deportee

But a thousand dollars won’t buy you a yankee wife, alas

There’s a thousand years of history

Drowned in that whiskey glass

Now I wish that she was mine

I could have been a king in 6/8 time — poor deportee

Schnapps, Chianti, Porter and Ouzo

Pernod Vodka, Sambuca, I love you so poor deportee

It’s a brittle charm, but the lady’s had enough

Still she wrote her number on your paper cuff

It’s hard to know when to start and when to stop

Her pillow talk is nothing more than talking shop

When I came here tonight my pockets were overflowing

She stole my return ticket and I didn’t even know it

I prayed to the saints and all the martyrs

For the secret life of Frank Sinatra

And all of these things have to come to pass

In America the law is a piece of ass — deportee

Schnapps, Chianti, Porter and Ouzo

Pernod, Vodka, Sambuca, I love you so

Poor deportee

Schnapps, Chianti, Porter and Ouzo

Pernod, Vodka, Sambuca, I love you so — deportee

I love you so poor deportee