| Some friends and I in a public place | 
| Were playing cards one night | 
| When into the room a fireman ran | 
| His face all chalky while | 
| «What's up?», says Brown, «Have you seen a ghost | 
| Or have you seen you aunt Mariah?» | 
| «Me aunt Maria be buggered!», says he | 
| «The bleedin' pub’s on fire!» | 
| «Oh well,» says Brown, «What a bit of luck | 
| Everybody follow me! | 
| Ands it’s down to the cellar | 
| If the fire’s not there | 
| Then we’ll have a grand old spree.» | 
| So we all went down with good old Brown | 
| The booze we could not miss | 
| And we had’t been in there ten minutes or more | 
| Till we were all quite pissed | 
| And there was Brown upside down | 
| Lappin' up the Whiskey on the floor | 
| «Let's booze, booze!» | 
| The firemen cried | 
| As they came knockin' on the door | 
| O don’t let, em in till it’s all drunk up | 
| Somebody shouted: «MacIntyre!» | 
| — MACINTYRE! | 
| And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk | 
| When the old Dun Cow caught fire | 
| Then Smith walked over to the port wine tub | 
| And he gave it a few hard knocks | 
| The he started takin' off his pantaloons | 
| Likewise his shoes and socks | 
| «Oh, no!» | 
| says Brown, «that ain’t allowed! | 
| You can’t do that thing here! | 
| Don’t wash your trousers in the port wine tub | 
| When we got guinness beer!» | 
| And the there came a mighty crash | 
| Half the bloody roof caved in | 
| We were almost drowned by the firemen’s hose | 
| But I swear it tastes like gin | 
| So we got some tacks and some old wet sacks | 
| And nailed ourselves inside | 
| And we sat there drinking down pints of Stout | 
| Till we were bleary-eyed | 
| And there was Brown upside down | 
| Lappin' up the Whiskey on the floor | 
| «Let's booze, booze!» | 
| The firemen cried | 
| As they came knockin' on the door | 
| O don’t let, em in till it’s all drunk up | 
| Somebody shouted: «MacIntyre!» | 
| — MACINTYRE! | 
| And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk | 
| When the old Dun Cow caught fire | 
| Then there came from the old back door | 
| The vicar of the local church | 
| And when he saw our drunken ways | 
| He began to scream and curse | 
| «Ah, you drunkend sods! | 
| You heathen clods! | 
| You’ve take to a drunken spree! | 
| You drank up all the benedictine wine | 
| And you didn’t save a drop for me!» | 
| Late that night, when the fire was out | 
| We came up from the cellar below | 
| Our pub was burned, our booze was drunk | 
| Our heads was hanging low | 
| «Oh look!», says Brown with a look quite queer | 
| Something raised his eye | 
| «We gotta get down to Murphy’s Pub | 
| It closes on the hour!» | 
| And there was Brown upside down | 
| Lappin' up the Whiskey on the floor | 
| «Let's booze, booze!» | 
| The firemen cried | 
| As they came knockin' on the door | 
| O don’t let, em in till it’s all drunk up | 
| Somebody shouted: «MacIntyre!» | 
| And there was Brown upside down | 
| Lappin' up the Whiskey on the floor | 
| «Let's booze, booze!» | 
| The firemen cried | 
| As they came knockin' on the door | 
| O don’t let, em in till it’s all drunk up | 
| Somebody shouted: «MacIntyre!» | 
| — MACINTYRE! | 
| And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk | 
| When the old Dun Cow caught fire |