| My great Grandpa was a king, a monarch stout and noble
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| He surveyed this land so green, and he said «She's fair and humble»
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| As far as the eye can see, from Carrauntooil to Giant’s Causeway was ours
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| Until they went and made a criminal of me
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| Many a Celtic head had rolled, and rolled upon the hillside
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| And they bathed their horses hooves in Hibernian blood and their hide
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| In exile they did flee, and set up a church and home there
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| 'till the landlord and the bailiff made it criminality
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| Oh, and on the road they came to run, run until the runnin’s done
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| Run far away from fettered chain, the land was ours to barter
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| We succumb from sweat and strain, and look they’re right behind again
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| If they catch me boys, I know they’ll make a criminal of me
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| A criminal of me, a criminal of me
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| Wandering forever, hungering eternally
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| A criminal of me, a criminal of me
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| Run, run, before they make a criminal of me
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| Across the sea they sailed, to a land both bright and noble
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| For they’d watched their neighbors starve, and the bloodline as it fumbled
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| As they reached the safer side, ole Papa said to Jimmy
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| To try and live a life so they’d not make a criminal of he
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| «Go be alert,» sad Da, «do not perish for the gentry.»
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| Tho' poor but proud was he, whenever they called discretely
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| Well he’d smash their faces in and in gaol he died poorly
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| «But,» he said, «don't let them try and make a criminal of ye.»
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| Oh, now my boss he steps so gay, so gaily up the street
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| While I dull the pain in pubs and still can’t afford to eat
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| He is dashing, he is fancy and he’ll never want you see
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| Evan as the factory shuts his shoes reflect the criminal in me
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| Violent and drunk now in the street with nothing to sustain me
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| I’m gonna die here in this hole. |
| The kids I can’t take care of with me
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| But it must be taught to let the blame and hatred out of their heads
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| For anger and danger make you just another pathetic, drunken, violent paddy dead |