52 SONGS / 52 WEEKS

dublin fog

Dublin Fog

You never know when & where inspiration will strike. The seeds of songwriting are scattered everywhere, including the drink menu at a local coffee shop.

I wrote this song after noticing the name of one of the specials written in chalk near the register: “Dublin Fog.” I assume the drink is quite similar to a “London Fog,” maybe with Irish cream instead of milk? I don’t know; I didn’t order it. I just liked the name. It sounded to me like a song.

A good Irish folk song will tell a story, often with a tongue firmly in-cheek.

Trying to decide what story might feature the phrase “Dublin fog,” I settled on a young man going to the local priest to confess that he’d broken his girlfriend’s heart. The priest instructs him to leave town, head to the city, and get lost in “Dublin fog” (a phrase that could refer either to the mist which settles over the city or to a lifestyle centered on the city’s many pubs that results in living in a kind of fog).

The young man follows the priest’s guidance and upon returning from Dublin finds that, after he left, the priest gave up his collar and married his girlfriend. With no viable love interests left, he decides to enter the priesthood himself and espouses to others the same bad advice he was given. Maybe one day, he’ll find someone gullible enough to leave behind their girlfriend for Dublin fog too.

It’s silly. There is no deep underlying meaning or message. It’s just a fun attempt at a good old Irish folk tune.

Lyrics

I woke up and went down early
to ole Father McCleary
at the parish down in Valley Loch.
I said, “I ain’t come here confessing.
I fear I need a lesson.
What’s a lad to do
if he has broken heart?”

Father answered something shady.
He said, “Listen here, me matey.
What you need to find
is a way to get lost.
Travel down to Dublin city.
Let the mist settle in with ye.
And disappear
inside the Dublin fog.

Dublin fog, Dublin fog
Dublin fog will help
a broken heart get lost

I said, “I’m sorry, Father McCleary.
I have just one more quick query:
What if the lad’s the one
who broke the heart?
See, it’s my lass,
my dear sweet Jenny
and her angry brother Benny
They’re looking to land me
in a funeral cart.”

Father said, “Benny has a temper.
Why’d you go and date his sister?”
You’re not safe
in this confessing box.
They’ll never find you in the city
and your secret is safe with me.
Go and disappear
inside of Dublin fog.

Dublin fog, Dublin fog
Dublin fog will help
a broken heart get lost

When I returned,
Jenny was married
and her second child she carried.
Good to her, the years
that I had lost.
I said, “Oh, Jenny, I am sorry.
Would you get inside me lorry?”
I know where we can go
and ne’er be caught.”

She cried, “You know
my heart is taken.
It’s the priest, his vows forsaken.
His collar gone,
this ring for me he bought.
I had confessed
my heart was broken.
He said, to you, he’d spoken.
And that you had
disappeared in Dublin fog.”

Dublin fog, Dublin fog
Dublin fog will help
a broken heart get lost

So, gather round,
my lads, and listen.
If you need to go be missing,
Take advice from
the new priest in Valley Loch.
There’s better lessons
I am certain.
But if your heart be hurting,
You can disappear
inside of Dublin Fog.

Credits

Words & Music: Bill Wolf