| Holy Willie you think you’re so great
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| While you postulate about our fate
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| With your bible in hand, think you’re lord of the land
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| You’ve no scripture for me mate
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| The hell of this wash hole is mighty
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| So at night we might get a bit flighty
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| But what good is boredom and silence all day
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| I think we’ve a right to play!
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| Oh I know we live on the edge of a knife
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| And the risk of solitary is nigh
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| But stuff it the gaurds can be bought with rum
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| Even us devils need some fun
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| So we dance at the base of the mountain
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| Maybe nude sure we’ve all seen it before
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| Sisters of sorrow, we say ‘stuff tomorrow'
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| Let’s dance, drink and then dance some more
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| So just what makes you think you’re so holy
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| Does your wife know you’re horny as hell
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| Compared with you, I’m a saint, so while in this pew
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| I bare my ass and say ‘stuff you'
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| Oh I know we live on the edge of a knife
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| And the risk of solitary is nigh
|
| But stuff it the gaurds can be bought with rum
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| Even us devils need some fun
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| For that mooning I got 30 days
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| In a cell only 6 feet by 4
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| But I’d do it again in the blink of an eye
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| For what else if this hell-hole life for?
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| Sure I’m a rebel from way back
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| I’m a limerick girl didn’t you know?
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| But when singing is sin I’ve no choice to give in
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| These bastard laws just stoop too low
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| Oh I know we live on the edge of a knife
|
| And the risk of solitary is nigh
|
| But stuff it the gaurds can be bought with rum
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| Even us devils need some fun |