Fifty Irons In the Fire: An Irish Drinking Song

Young Patrick was preoccupied with his perfect plan--
"Gonna make a masterpiece, gonna be the man!"
Never did a lick of work, all he did was talk--
But talk's no match 'gainst the ticking of the clock!

Oh, let's raise a glass to the uninspiring ones!
To the losers and the quitters who will never get it done!
They poke, they stoke, fifty irons in the fire--
Naught gets done, but the flames get higher!

Now, Natty was a boastful boy, music was his thing--
"Just you wait until I'm done! All the world will sing!"
Meanwhile he just lay about, lazy to the last,
Jealous of the symphonies that his friends amassed!

Let's raise a glass to the uninspiring ones!
To the losers and the quitters who will never get it done!
They start, they stop, to succeed they do aspire--
But all they've got are fifty irons in the fire!

Then there was old Flannery, locked himself away--
Spent an hour on his craft, every single day!
Word by word and page by page, a novel did appear--
"It's wonderful what you can do, with eighty-seven years!"

So spare a thought for the uninspiring ones!
For the losers and the quitters who never got it done!
Years went by and the legend they acquired 
Was thirty, forty, fifty useless irons in the fire!