Last time I saw Tommy and Timmy
Together they were standing on a bridge near Croke Park
Home for a tour – for once I timed it
So that I could see Wexford playing a game in that park

Tommy and Timmy looked like they’d been waiting there for hours
Standing there with the cool breeze blowing through their hair
They seemed entirely at home there on the bridge,
Didn’t look like they ever intended moving it

I knew they’d been at the match ‘cos Timmy’s from Wexford

‘Twas a huge surprise to seem them there
But they didn’t seem surprised to see me at all
I mighta thought they were waiting for me
Except they didn’t even know I was there
We talked like there was nothing unusual
About the fact I’d never seen them in Ireland before
And the only time I did was at my gig in the Village
When we went out and got pissed together

We’re going to the west, 14th is best
Take a right on the Avenue
We’re gonna look after you
Take us to McManus’s

Last time in the City was
In a yellow taxi going home at God knows what hour
I remember singing Rogers and Hammerstein
The song that is the one that comes from Oklahoma

Oh the cattle are standing like statues

Tommy and Timmy howled with laughter

Tommy we’ll miss you forever after

They used to come to my gigs in The Village. I
played with a string quartet at the time. These two
hairy guys, smiling and laughing, getting every little
nuance of my Irish sarcasm, self-pity, and humour
– sat beaming before me like two muppets. Then
one summer I was fortunate to be home from
New York, where I had emigrated to donkeys ago,
and got to see Wexford playing hurling in Dublin’s
massive Croke Park. My sister Bernie had secured
the tickets through a network of GAA outlets (the
Gaelic sport organisers), bars, and supermarkets,
or off someone who knew someone.

After the match, we were rolling along with the
sea of people, through working class Dublin, when
we came to a low size stone bridge. There, with
their back to the canal, leaned Tommy and Timmy,
upon their elbows, upon the wall, beaming in the
sun. I was astounded and astonished, “What??
Tommy and Timmy! What are you two doing here?”
“Howzitgoin Pierce” yawned the two lads, smiling
as always.

As I left them there, it astonished me how blasé
they were, considering I had only ever seen them
in New York, although they were from Ireland. After
that I lost track of them. Tommy met his lovely wife
in the Czech Republic, they came to New York and
raised a beautiful family, while Timmy continued
to work in McSorley’s on 7th St. Then sadly from
out of the blue I was informed that Tommy had
died, and was asked to sing at his memorial. So I
wrote this song, and sang it very crudely at Arlene’s
Grocery in New York that night in front of Tommy’s
wife and Timmy

I am proud to say Tommy and Timmy is a Gaelic
hurling song, my favourite sport, dedicated to
Tommy English and his best friend Timmy from