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 its 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 days work won t take a mick like me i surely couldnt dance and hell if i could sing but id 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 youll be champion of the world 
['celtic rock']