St. Pat got rid of the snakes but left us with these guys:  the Pogues, a group that has now become a main stream pop group in Europe dispite the insane drunkeness of McShane and the death of Kirsty MacColl.

It's been said that McShane killed Kirsty MacCol by breathing his alcoholic breath on her for a month. Not true. Here is their anthem when the loved MacCol was still alive and in the group.

Here's the URL for a clean copy from the now cult movie PS I Love You with Hillary Swank and tons of others. The Pogues have become commercial during the past year so lots of their music is now very clear and even featured in Hollywood movies. Tons of it at the above link and absolutely worth your time.  BTW, just so he can never complain of his being screwed in the States, click here for his SNL drunken slurring of the great song, "Fiesta" that had to cost him at least one movie and a few appearances. Here's a clean video of the same number

MacShane is a registered asshole as well as a certified genius with a talent broad as the Atlantic.

The Devil on St. Pat's

THIS is fucking Irish. Due to massive email requests (four) the lyrics to the McGowan song, Fairytale of New York, is posted at the end. The Pogues, the most Irish group ever, and yes his teeth are fucked up and yes you cannot possibly understand a word he or she (the late great Kirsty McColl) says through their brogues and booze. But this is fucking great stuff. You can't tell from this clip but Maccoll was a hell of a singer-song writer and the song, The Fairy Tale of New York is a working class anthem over there recorded by almost everybody, BUT the Pogues version here with Mccoll is the only one that works.

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
And I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars
Big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old

When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on the corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Living there almost dead on a drip
In that bed

You scum bag
You maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our last

I could have been someone
So could anyone
You took my dreams
From me when I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you

And this next one is how Shane lost his fucking teeth.