Go on home British soldiers go on home, Have you got no fucking homes of your own? For eight hundred years we've fought you without fear And we will
'Twas a morning in July, I was walking to Tipperary When I heard a battle cry From the mountains over head As I looked up in the sky I saw an Irish soldier
Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing, For the love of one's country is a terrible thing. It banishes fear with the speed of a flame And it
