THE WHIT (Paul O’Brien)

For many years Aer Lingus has been a life line for emigrants, replacing the ferry.

I’m sitting in an airplane; I’m going to be home soon

To celebrate the Whit Weekend, the first weekend in June

I’m missing the in-flight meals and complementary beer

I’m looking down at Ireland’s Eye, as they lower the landing gear

Heading down through the clouds and out into the sun

The pilot on the intercom saying just how far we’ve come

I’ looking at the stewardess with curls and floppy ears

And I’m putting my watch back twenty-seven years

Take me back aer lingus to the days of duty free

Take me back when wogan still worked for rte

Take me back, take me back, take me back again

Take me in your time machine, back to way back when

Back before the Celtic Tiger roamed in Darglewood

Before the Euro robbed us all and long before the flood

Before they built the highway, before they charged a toll

Before that Van the Man found his roots in Celtic Sour

Take me back aer lingus…….

You could watch the girls on Grafton Street from the comfort of your car

And you’d never meet a tourist in that place called Temple Bar

You got your suit in Thomas Street down by Hairy Jim’s

And shirts were packed in cellophane with lots and lots of pins

Take me back aer lingus…….

I shut my eyes

We hit the ground

I listen for the flaps

A gentle sigh

I look around

Thank God that no-one claps

Take me back aer lingus…….

We’ve stopped now at the terminal; it takes ages for to dock

At last the stewardess begins to fiddle with the lock

“Go raibh mile maith agat” and “We’ll see you soon again”

It’s the only bit of Irish you’ll be hearing all weekend

Take me back aer lingus…….

I’m coming down the gangway with my passport in my hand

Off down the escalator, feeling pretty grand

While I’m waiting for my baggage I take a quick look ‘round

It doesn’t take too long before both feet are on the ground

Take me back aer lingus…….