this neo-traditional irish drinking song is the dubiously brilliant product of a liquor-soaked evening with my friend jace.

The Ballad of Shorty McGee

Shorty McGee had a crowd at his funeral
No one was cryin’ or sayin’ goodbye
And if you’re not familiar I promise that ye
Will learn all about Shorty McGee

Shorty McGee was the runt of the litter
Shorty was sweet, but shit, was he bitter
Now, ye might consider a midget a freak
And hell, so did Shorty McGee

But Squinty McGinty, not quite so discerning
Thought Shorty was simply the cream of the crop
The blind ticket-taker had made up her mind
To get hitched to her midget under the big top

The nuptials were brief, soon the chaos commenced
and Squinty just blushed as the circus folk danced
To the rowdy melody of the calliope
And hell, so did Shorty McGee

But sure, soon enough the union turned bleak
Squinty learned quick to swallow her misery
As Shorty kept harping on his short physique
Ranting all day, he wallowed in midgetry

So Squinty left town on the next outbound train
With Laddie McBeardy (a curious name)
Fooled by the whiskers, Squinty had been deceived
And hell, so was Shorty McGee

Shorty took leave with a last mournful glance
At the tent, now empty of all its romance
He ran to the elephants, jumped in the pen
Struck up a jig, and the stompin’ began

And hell, there went Shorty McGee

Shorty McGee had a crowd at his funeral
No one was cryin’ or sayin’ goodbye
They just danced to the sweet lilting of the calliope
And somewhere, so did Shorty McGee