Cars cruise by, they're being watched Curtains twitch, a neighbour winds his clock The old men with their health Stand outside and watch the world revolve Around their neighbourhood It's understood that everything must change No matter where you're stood In Hollywood or on some dull estate Down at the local bar a jaguar is pulling up outside Inside the musty smell of the clientele No incense can hide Enter the auctioneer, a pioneer A walking bunch of keys He's on the money trail sniffing around For a bargain or a steal It's all about the deal Romantic Ireland's dead and gone The Gombeen sold her for a song Is it too late to right a wrong? I hate to lose her They build them quick these days Apartment space would suit 3 or 4 The walls are paper thin, when in my bed I can hear my neighbour snore He dreams of finding pearls and dancing girls And a fuller head of hair Little does he know, behind the door There's a woman crying there A woman is crying Romantic Ireland's dead and gone The Gombeen sold her for a song Is it too late to right a wrong? I hate to lose her Romantic Ireland's in the grave All that's left is up for sale Greasy fingers ply their trade Money screwed her She's dead and gone