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The Death of Michael Flatley
The day that Michael Flatley waltzed into our village squareThe skies turned black and greyTeeth like razors, eyes of gold, a kerchief 'round his hairThe women sighed and swayedCo-opting a thousand years of culture and heritage,This so-called lord of danceBut this bastard's reign must surely end with blood and carnage,We'll rid him from this landWe'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees!Drag the bastard through the rain And kick him in the face again!For ten long years he profited from our sweat and tearsAnd drank the alehouse dryHe forced himself upon a girl against her bloody willThen left her there to dieSo grab your pitchforks, feathers and tar, he's drinking at McCaffey's bar,Be sure it will be his lastFor without hands a man can't steal, with gouged-out eyes he can't concealThe lies behind the maskWe'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees!Drag the bastard through the rain Letras de cancionesAnd kick him in the face again!We'll hang him from the highest tree And break both of his fucking knees!Drag the bastard through the rain And kick him in the face again!
From Letras Mania