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If you ever go to Dublin town 
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In A hundred years or so
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Inquire for in Baggot Street
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And what is was like to know

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O he was the queer one  
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was a queer one               
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I tell you

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My great-grandmother knew him well,
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He asked her to come and call On him in his 
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flat and she giggled at the thought
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Of a young girl's lovely fall.

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O he was dangerous,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was dangerous,
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And I tell you

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On Pembroke Road look out for my ghost,
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Dishevelled with shoes untied,
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Playing through the railings with little children
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Whose children have long since died.

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O he was a nice man,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was a nice man
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And I tell you 

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Go into a pub and listen well
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If my voice still echoes there,
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Ask the men what their grandsires thought
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And tell them to answer fair,

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O he was eccentric,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was eccentric
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And I tell you 

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He had the knack of making men feel
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As small as they really were
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Which meant as great as God had made them
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But as malesl they disliked his air.

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O he was a proud one,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was a proud one
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And I tell you

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If ever you go to Dublin town
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In a hundred years or so
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Sniff for my perso-nality,
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Is it Vanity's vapour now?

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O he was a vain one,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was a vain one
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And I tell you

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I saw his name with a hundred more
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In a book in the library,
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It said he had never fully achieved
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His potentiali-ty.

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O he was slothful,
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Fol do did dil li do
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He was slothful
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And I tell you  

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He knew that posterity had no use
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For anything but the soul,
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The lines that speak the passionate heart,
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The spirit that lives alone.

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O he was a lone one,
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Fol do did dil li do
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O he was a lone one,
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And I tell you

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O he was a lone one,
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Fol do did dil li do
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Yet he lived happily
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And I tell you