Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sound


Interface


Difficulty level


Accent



interface language

en

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie policy   |   Support   |   FAQ
1
register / login
Lyrkit

donate

5$

Lyrkit

donate

10$

Lyrkit

donate

20$

Lyrkit

And/Or support me in social. networks:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Paddy And The Rats

Immigrant's Sons

 

Immigrant's Sons

(album: Hymns For Bastards - 2011)


We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

Why don't you slip away and your lives will be spared
If you stand in way of immigrant's sons we'll put you into hell

Daddy died of hunger when the famine's broken out
Mother took me and me brother, we left our lovely town
A long and weary journey across the stormy sea
We landed at the Boston bay and moved in
Mom became a washerwoman for a rich man's house
Brother and me carried coal in the local mine
Irish people stick together, we met them for a pint
We played a jigg and danced together all night

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

Why don't you slip away and your lives will be spared
If you stand in way of immigrant's sons we'll put you into hell

We're proud 'cause our Irish gang is the toughest out of all
Watch your step in our district 'cause we stick you to the wall
No problem for us to beat you, we go to see the priest
In God's name he can absolve us from our sins
March 17 and we all meet at MacNamara's place
Celebrating Éire and St. Patrick's Day
The fiddle plays some good old songs that came over the sea
We keep the way our traditions must be

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

Why don't you slip away and your lives will be spared
If you stand in way of immigrant's sons we'll put you into hell

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

We drink, we fight, we do our best when we get tight
We drink, we fight, if you drove us wild

Why don't you slip away and your lives will be spared
If you stand in way of immigrant's sons we'll put you into hell

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?