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The Poor Dead Girl Beautiful was her face And beautiful indeed her ass Lots of money in her pocket And cocaine up her nose The people looked at her Young girl of twenty years The pictures in the paper And on the television She was the girl who had it made She was all right And when she died The crying for her was great. A couple of days before In Waterford, a couple of young men At a house party with friends Dancing to music, kissing girls They ate cocaine that night And the world looked down its nose at them For they were working class, those boys And poor, so few said of them alas alas. Maybe, on the morning of her birthday When she saw the poor dead boys She said to herself alone “I wont do cocaine tonight” And when she hit the floor When great was her illness Did she say to her friends “Don’t do drugs!”? And when she looks down now At the people looking at her picture on the television Maybe she’d not do the drugs If the had the chance in her hand again?
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An Cailín Bocht Marbh Áileann a bhí a h-aghaidh, Agus dathúil soiléir a bhí a tón, Bhí airgead go leor ina póca, Agus cóicéain suas a srón. D’fhéach daoine uirthi, Cailín óg d’fhiche bliain d’aois, Bhí a pictiúr sna nuachtáin, Agus ar an teilifís Bhí soal breá ós a cóir, Bhí gach rud ceart go leor, Agus nuair a fuair sí bás, Bhí an caoineadh di, mór. Cúpla lá roimhe, I bPort Láirge, Bhí cúpla fir óga, Ag cóisir le cairde, Ag damhsa le ceol chun na cailíní a phógadh, Thógadar cóicéain an oíche sin, Agus d’fhéach an domhan síos orthu, Toisc gur tháinig na buachaillí as áiteanna bochta, Dúirt daoine fuatha, “ochón, ochón.” B’fhéidir ar maidin a breithlá, Nuair a chonaic sí na buachaillí marbha, Anois iad fíorbhocht, Dúirt sí léi féin ansin, “Ní thógfaidh mé cóicéan anocht” Agus nuair a thit sí an urláir, Agus tinneas mór inti, An ndúirt sí lena cairde, “Ná tóg drugaí?” Agus nuair a fhéachann sí síos inniú, Ar na daoine ag breathnú uirthi ar an teilifís, B’fhéidir ní thógadh sí drugaí, Dá mbeadh an seans aici arís.