The day was March the Seventeenth
In Nineteen Hundred Eighty-Three
A bunch of us wild Irishmen
Decided to go on a spree
We drank a lot of Irish whiskey
And got as drunk as Murphy's pup
We then drank lots of Irish coffee
As we tried to sober up
On the next day, March the Eighteenth
Nineteen Hundred Eighty-Three
A bunch of us wild Irishmen
Were as sick as we could be
This wild Irishman is so sick
He can hardly see
He says he's never going to go
On another spree
D.B. Cox