The children of today will remember this summer,
The year of the gathering,
Returning home they said, first generation to do so.

Dublin called, Ireland called; come home.
The heat, burnt flesh, tossing and turning,sleepless nights.
Is it always like this?
Sunshine all day everyday, maximum smiles minimum clothes.
Snap snap capturing us all in a daze with instagram.

Dancing in the Dame District on a Friday night,
Memories of a Dublin street party,
The beat goes on as the drummer sweats.
We’re delirious, laughing out loud.

Howth is a foreign holiday, with the little Italian wine bar where the locals gather.
Fresh fish tuck in,
Bounce back Dublin, Bounce back Ireland the craic is 90.
Dancing taxi man and good deeds done more frequently.

Flags of blue in the land of green, young love blossoms, the only direction is up, please don’t look down it’s back to basics.
Not a cent to your name, a mortgage in arrears and here you are jubilant. The summers are too short and the loan is too long. Put your worries aside a toast is in order.