A very long road to Donegal

I woke up in the morning, I shook my empty head,
My limbs were pale and aching - thought I was nearly dead,
But then I found a bottle and then a couple more -
So what the hell had happened the day and night before?
 
All birds around were singing, the sun was shining bright,
Some chairs around were broken, there must have been a fight.
I stepped up to a mirror, I've seen my battered face
And swore to give up drinking one of these happy days.
 
Then suddenly I noticed my satchel on the floor,
I've read a note upon it and rushed out of the door.
"So what it said?" you ask me - well, nothing good at all
I should have been departing back home to Donegal.
 
I had some fifteen minutes to reach the morning train.
My legs were barely moving, I had to ease the pain.
To drink a shot of whiskey, I dashed into a pub,
Some folk there said "No worries! Relax, we'll pick you up!"
 
The liquor flowed like rivers, the clock was ticking on,
Some jolly hours later I was completely done.
With all them pesky doxies and babbling chaps around
The world around was spinning on daffy roundabout.
 
And yet again I woke up in some forsaken hole.
I had a harsh hangover from tonnes of alcohol.
So I picked up my satchel and whatcha think there was?
A fecking note and tickets - and that's the way it goes!
 
This short and gripping story I told so many times,
But every time I heard it from weirdly giggling guys,
So now it is uncertain if Donegal's my home
And if I'm really Irish and if my name is Colm!