Maudlin Tears

It always happens after a few beers That I must stifle back those maudlin tears The maudlin tears I won't allow to flow I'm not the man that some others think they know. I hear the lark pipe in the morning sky Above the coarse meadows of Lisnaboy And the orange breast robin carolling in the rain And those maudlin tears I struggle to contain. The frog is croaking in the flooded drain And I hear the magpie's cackling voice again And in all of my years of life I have not seen The fields of Ballydaly quite so green. Real men don't weep I've often heard it said And that by woman kind alone tears only shed But real men cannot be real if this be so If all of their human emotions they can't show. On it's journey to the sea at Youghal Bay The Blackwater through Drishane winds it's way And tears again are welling in my soul Those maudlin tears I struggle to control. It always happens after a few beers Nostalgic thoughts stir up those maudlin tears The maudlin tears I stifle down inside The things men do for their foolish manly pride.