Healy-Rae Country
A street of facades, there’s a couple of bars
Lilac mountains and a little graveyard
People of the bog and people of the brush
Drive rusty machines to Cappanacush
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
I hope it’s not the death of you
Blow-ins getting by selling antique chests
There’s an August fair with a shearing contest
Limestone jaws on chiseled faces
Three legged dogs and drag races
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
I hope it’s not the death of you
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
I hope it’s not the death of you
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
What language do you parlez-vous?
You can lie on your back at the brow of the hill
Look up at the planets without light spill
Silver deer and yttrium fish
And goats with human voices that can grant you a wish
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
I hope it’s not the death of you
A church car park and a recycling centre
A kid with a sickle who’s a cat tormentor
A man in a van who brews gin in the hills
His wife had scales and fins and gills
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
Welcome to Healy-Rae country
We hope it’s not the death of you