Gaelic Storm Follow

I'm done with you begrudgers!
You pushers and you shovers!
The scurrying, the worrying,
I'm goin’ to have some fun!

Well I was born very young, I grew up in me cradle,
Chances are, that when I die, it will be of something fatal.
So if you see me running, keep up by my side,
That hurricane’s a coming, and there ain't no place to hide!
Get your own life this one’s mine,
and stuff it, where, the sun don’t shine!

I'm done with you begrudgers!
You pushers and you shovers!
The scurrying, the worrying,
I'm goin' to have some fun!

So, give it over, take a break.
Shut yer hole! You're causing my poor heart to ache.
To all you saints and sinners, you losers and you winners;
Here's to one more day above the roses!

All that shmoozin' and the boozin', will catch up with you they say,
At least that's what them old ones, they told me everyday.
So I quit just like they said, stopped everything that’s bad,
‘Twas the worst twenty minutes that I’ve ever had!
It's not the cough that carries you off,
It's the coffin, they, carry you off in!

I'm done with all the snitching!
The balling and the bitching!
The striving and conniving,
I’m heading for the pub!

So, give it over, take a break.
Shut yer hole! You're causing my poor heart to ache.
To all you saints and sinners, you losers and you winners;
Here's to one more day above the roses!

Work like you don't need money, don't know how much things cost.
Love like you've never been hurt, love like you've never lost.
Dance like no one’s watching, as often as you can,
And when you drink, drink like, you're a true-blood Irishman!
Live every day like it's your last,
They're going by, way too fast!

You langers and you loons!
You bankers and buffoons!
The liars, the pariahs,
You can keep the bloody lot!

So, give it over, take a break.
Shut yer hole! You're causing my poor heart to ache.
To all you saints and sinners, you losers and you winners;
Here's to one more day above the roses!
Here's to one more day above the roses!
Here's to one more day above the roses!