I was born in a Dublin street
Where the loyal drums do beat,
And the loving English feet walked all over us;
And every single night when me dad would come home tight,
He'd invite the neighbors out with this chorus:
Chorus:
Come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man,
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders;
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away,
From the green and lovely lanes of k**eshandra.
Come tell us how you slew
Them ol' Arabs two by two,
Like the Zulus they had knives and bows and arrows;
Of how bravely you faced one with your sixteen-pounder gun,
And you frightened all the natives to the marrow.
Chorus
Come let us hear you tell
How you slammed the brave Parnell,
And taught him well and truly persecuted;
Where are the stares and jeers that you proudly let us hear,
When our heroes of sixteen were executed.
Chorus
Oh! Come out you British Huns,
Come out and fight without your guns,
Show your wife how you won medals up in Derry;
You murdered sixteen men and you'll do the same again,
So get out of here and take your bloody army.
Chorus x2