To the Irish tune MacNamaras Band.
While strolling along our promenade
Myself and Christine so fare
At Irish dawn, there's no finer ya'll find anywhere
I warned her that slippery slope was near
Don't worry at all if you should fall, grab hold of my shillelagh dear
The slope appeared, as I feared
The grass, the dew, her slipper flew
Her eyes got big, what I told her she did
So surprised we both were
Her struggling hands flailed chaotically
My God Christine, that's not my shillelagh!
She got to her feet, big eyes so sweet
We both had a blush and a laugh
She held on true, to the staff I'm attached to
Now, I'm getting a little slippery too
We both fell then as she kicked off her other shoe
There's no need to write page two
If there's any imagine at all in you
