Music and lyrics by Richie Kavanagh
Chorus
(OH) I love me Irish breakfast, me hearty Irish breakfast.
Bacon, eggs n’ sausages all dancing on the plate.
With a lump of jet black pudding and mushrooms by the dozen.
A hearty Irish breakfast is the only thing ta ate.
Ah I am a long hawl trucker and I often go ta France.
A country known for food n’ wine n’ a little aul romance.
But when it comes to breakfast in the continental style.
A lump of dried bread on your plate would wipe away your smile.
Chorus
(OH) I love my Irish breakfast, me hearty Irish breakfast Bacon, eggs n’ sausages all dancing on the plate.
With a lump of jet black pudding and mushrooms by the dozen.
A hearty Irish breakfast is the only thing ta ate.
I often have ta take the truck and head for Italy.
A country full of passion, where they love their spaghetti.
But even in the morning, in Venice or in Rome.
Its pasta, bleedy pasta, sure its then I think of home.
Chorus
(OH) I love me Irish breakfast, me hearty Irish breakfast.
Bacon, eggs n’ sausages all dancing on the plate.
With a lump of jet black pudding and mushrooms by the dozen.
A hearty Irish breakfast is the only thing ta ate.
I remember when I had ta go down ta sunny Spain.
Ye know that place were the bitta rain falls mainly on the plain.
But every single morning, before you’d say.. Olé.
They’d give you more paella, its then you’d here me say….
Chorus
(OH) I love me Irish breakfast, me hearty Irish breakfast.
Bacon, eggs n’ sausages all dancing on the plate.
With a lump of jet black pudding and mushrooms by the dozen.
A hearty Irish breakfast is the only thing ta ate.
A great big lump of fried bread boys, is surely hard ta bate.
“Get the aul pan Johnny”