| Oh I’ve loved you from afar, I’ve borne you like a scar | 
| Sung your name across the bloody Colfiorito | 
| But a poison took your heart, you charmless little tart | 
| Now you’ve nary a jot o' bother at all for me-o | 
| This old town has gone to bits, all the folk are off their tits | 
| Screamin', «Hoo-rah! | 
| Hurry the fuck t’blazes!» | 
| A right parade o' fools come to stomp all o’er yer jewels | 
| Like a fistful o' half dead roses | 
| And we’re here again, ho again, let the whisky flow again | 
| Let the taps blow again, sound away the knell | 
| Like a fistful o' roses, we’ll take 'em to the grave | 
| Every last tale there is to tell | 
| Oh, this boozer is a wreck, all up and down the deck | 
| Like a tired old sinner off her game | 
| Wi' her blood red lips, and her youth about her hips | 
| Still the regulars all love her just the same | 
| Where the mud-spat boots cut their way among the suits | 
| And the Sally’s come to rattle the can for Jesus | 
| 'Til they chain up all the doors and toss out all the whores | 
| Wi' a fistful o' half dead roses | 
| And we’re here again, ho again, let the whisky flow again | 
| Let the taps blow again, sound away the knell | 
| Like a fistful o' roses, we’ll take 'em to the grave | 
| Every last tale there is to tell | 
| May all the Autumn leaves turn to Twenties at yer feet | 
| And the high and mighty come to know your thunder | 
| We could set the world ablaze, but these are early days | 
| And there’s still a hell of a road for us tae wander | 
| And there’s one here among us’ll outlive the rest | 
| Take a tipple to his foibles and his praises | 
| 'Til they strike him off the roll and chuck him doon a hole | 
| Wi' a fistful o' half dead roses | 
| And we’re here again, ho again, let the whisky flow again | 
| Let the taps blow again, sound away the knell | 
| Like a fistful o' roses, we’ll take 'em to the grave | 
| Every last tale there is to tell | 
| And we’re here again, ho again, let the whisky flow again | 
| Let the taps blow again, sound away the knell | 
| Like a fistful o' roses, we’ll take 'em to the grave | 
| Every last tale there is to tell |