Uncle Jim
by Nicki Minaj
My Uncle Jim was a hell of a manHe lived in the Philippine IslandsCame back home in ’67To convert us local savages
He was very popular in Wexford townThough not with the priests or the clergyFor he could say the mass in ten minutes flatWe called him Father Speedy Gonzalez.
He didn’t say boo in confessionHe wasn’t the least judgmentalIf you didn’t kill your ma or your daHe could be exceedingly gentle
A terrible man for drinkin’ shortsHe loved to bet on the horsesI can still see him there with the fag in his mouthStudyin’ form at the races
Hey Uncle Jim I miss you stillThough we fought like divils sometimesAbout sex and guns and rock & rollAnd all the bad things on me mind
One day he got a notion from hellI thought he was havin’ me on“The Rev. Ian Paisley,” he said“Reminds me of St. Paul.That man must learn to change his waysHe needs a helpin’ handAnd a first class dose of the Holy GhostI’m sure he’ll understand.”
Se we set out for Belfast townThe priest and a slip of a boyWe were just a mile from PortadownWhen the Specials pulled us over
“Where are you goin’ with your Roman collarAnd your bottle of holy water?”“We’re off to convert the Rev. Ian.”They nearly fell down with the laughter
Hey Uncle Jim I miss you stillThough we fought like divils sometimesAbout sex and guns and rock & rollAnd all the bad things on me mind
With guns and jeers they threatened usBut they were wastin’ their timeFor Jim had faced down Chairman MaoBack in 1949
They inquired about our relationshipAnd the sexual drives of the PopeI wanted to cry at the sight of their gunsFor I had given up hope
Me Uncle stared at the OrangemenHe didn’t give a damnIf they strung him up in PortadownHe was that kind of a man
I swore to God in heavenI wouldn’t let him downAnd cry in front of them fascistsThat turned me life around
Hey Uncle Jim I miss you stillThough we fought like divils sometimesAbout sex and guns and rock & rollAnd all the bad things on me mind
We never got to see the Rev. IanAnd things went from bad to worseBut I wonder if it’d all have turned out the sameIf Jim and he had a smoke
And talked about racehorsesAnd the epistles of St. PaulOver a bottle of BushmillsThey could have settled it all.
Hey Uncle Jim I miss you stillThough we fought like divils sometimesAbout sex and guns and rock & rollAnd all the bad things on me mind.