Ye Banished Privateers
A Final Toast for Oliver Cromwell
Listen up, alley scum, loiter-sacks, scurvy bums
'Cause we've gathered in here this day
To the wake for a man who conquered the land
And then ruled with an iron hand
So I beg thee to stand, parting glass in your hand
'Cause we buried him today
Put away knife and fork, chew and swallow that pork
And, please, raise your glass and say
Here's to you, Cromwell, may you burn in hell
In a hole dug just for you
Where the king of lies poke you in your eyes
And put needles in your shoes
He can take a stick, shovе it up your prick
And then brake it 'cross his knee
Worms will eat your guts, horsеs kick your nuts
It would be a sight to see
You're a shit, lunatic, and a sick witless prick
You're the shart of the human race
But now you must dwell in Alighieri's hell
Where you will share Brutus place
We will dance, laugh, and sing, drink good ale, bells will ring
As the coffin makes your bed
So join with your mate, in the song, celebrate
'Cause the bastard's finally dead
Here's to you Cromwell, may the imps of hell
Bring all nettles sprung in March
That would ever stand upon Irish land
And then shove them up your arse
You'll get mauled by bears for a thousand years
Pass ten kidney stones a day
And if I as well am fated for hell
I would gladly join the—
Here's to you, Cromwell, may you burn in hell
In a hole dug just for you
Where the king of lies poke you in your eyes
And put needles in your shoes
You'll get mauled by bears for a thousand years
Pass ten kidney stones a day
And if I as well am fated for hell
I will gladly join the fray