Lid of Me Granny’s Bin

Joe Mulhearn

As I was climbing into bed,
At my poor granny’s side,
I looked out the window,
The Brits had arrived.
The house was surrounded,
They smashed the front door in.
They’ve come to take away,
The lid of me granny’s bin.

Well she opened up her window,
And she clambered down the spout,
Soon her bin was rattling,
To call her neighbors out.
She took out her whistle,
And blew away like hell,
And soon we heard an echo,
As the neighbors blew as well.


With a Scream, Bang, Shout,
Rattle up a din.
Let the army know, my Girls,
The Brits is comin’ in.
Now rattle up your bin lid.
Beat the message out.
Get your head down.
Whistle, Bang, Shout.

A Tommy came right upstairs,
A rifle in his hand.
She kicked him with her button boots,
As down the hall she ran.
Up came another one,
His medal for to win.
But all he got right on the gob,
Was the lid of me granny’s bin.

The music rose like thunder,
As the bins and whistles played.
The enemy soon retreated,
They knew they’d overstayed.
It wasn’t made of silver,
It wasn’t made of tin,
But once again it saved us all,
The lid of me granny’s bin.


The English have the telly,
The radio and press.
To all communications,
They’ve always had access.
But from Pettigo to Bellaghy,
From the bone to Castlefin,
The only way to spread the news,
Is rattle your granny’s bin.