Pour a wee drink, sit down by the fire Hear a fisherman's tail, as the flames dance higher An old photograph, comes alive on the wall As he drifts back in time, to his wild Donegal And they're dancing on duck street Waltzing into the mists of time And they're dancing on Duck Street The fisherman's lays down his nets for a while As he plays his old squeeze box The melody carries him off on a breeze And then he went a roving And he roamed the world over And the winds of time will never tame The ghosts I know them all by name In a far distant land, of my hopes and desires I tell the tails, around the campfires That old photograph, that hangs on my wall Takes me back to that Isle, in wild Donegal And they're dancing on Duck Street (Dancing on Duck Street) Waltzing into the mists of time And they're dancing on Duck Street (Dancing on Duck Street) The fisherman's lays down his nets for a while