Scythian Follow

Well my father was a drunkard
And my stepma was a nag
And life in the streets of Dublin
Was nothing about to brag

With the work lines getting longer
And hunger on the breeze
Met a carney from Killarney
And he sang these words to me

Hey ho diddle-ee dee
If it’s free you want to be
Jump the ship to Boston
Fight a Yankee in the ring

Well I grew up as a fighter
My teacher was the streets
Where the taste of blood in your mouth
Was never out of reach

These fists were made of iron
But never made to steal
So I followed the words of a carney
And to Boston I did sail

So I slept under bridges
And jumped a train or three
An honest day’s work
Won't take a Mick like me

I surely couldn’t dance
And hell if I could sing
But I’d pistol whip a Yankee
If you just put me in the ring

The brawlin’ turned to fightin’
And the bruises turned to gold
The hunger turned to pride
As the wins began to roll

And I think about the carney
Who sang the distant chord
If you go and fight the Yankees
You’ll be champion of the world!