Irish Reply (The Last Words of Big Adam Maguire)

Found out at the docks today, my job has gone away The Foreman is sorry, and I say I am too Can’t tell the wife so I wander the streets close by Drawn to the tavern to decide what to do And to hell with politicians who steal from the poor And to hell with the bosses who always want more Here’s a toast to the workers and our daily bread And take fight to the bastards who are better off dead The bottle brings clarity, just what they’ve done to me Because I am headstrong and speak my own mind I fight for the union and stand up for the working man They fought back with a vengeance, I must answer in kind And to hell with politicians who steal from the poor And to hell with the bosses who always want more Here’s a toast to the workers and our daily bread And take fight to the bastards who are better off dead The whiskey revives me, feeling good to the core The bastards won’t break me, I won’t take anymore I start conversation with a gal at the bar I tell her my story, and maybe take it too far The jar gives me muscle, and her boyfriend too The bloke learned a lesson, what my rough hands can do The fight was a quick one, as I showed him the floor The bartender applauded, as I strode to the door The blood on my knuckles, made clear my next fight They say violence solves nothing, but sometimes it might Went back to the docks today, my Foreman has gone away And I’m not sorry for my Irish Reply The revenge of an Irish man, taking my final stand Now I shall hang, and now you know why And to hell with politicians who steal from the poor And to hell with the bosses who always want more Here’s a toast to the workers and our daily bread And take fight to the bastards who are better off dead