Youghal

Lyrics

Death to Moby Dick Signed Gregory Peck In and out of his make-up With a whale-bone for a leg The little bar down by the quayside Was a goldmine everyday Just like sitting on an oil well When the motion picture people came to stay White whaler, black heart Out there hunting with the hounds Caught much more with a camera Panned across the faces of the people hanging round All the local were extras And all the locals got paid There's no acting in the flat black eyes Of old women watching as the Pequod sailed away 40 summers dived out of reach And on a TV round the back We've got a picture on a videotape Of a big fish that never came back So far from the heart of Europe The young left long ago To look for work in London Boston and Chicago