The Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishBorn of ages pastHave spawned a cruel historyLet's hope that luck don't lastCame with the longshipsAnd from across the Irish seaThe endless tides of fighting menBought the arteries to their kneesThe Knuck of the IrishThen came the EnglishWith their reforming waysThe Knuck of the IrishBought ample fruit in those daysThe land was reportedWith the winners of English warsAnd the only crops harvestedWere famine and plague and the outlaw scoreThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishOne day things will changeAnd then you know, you will seeJust how lucky they can all really beHow in the orange and the greenMeets on the white in betweenThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishStill hangs around their heelsAs bombers stalk the city's hallsAnd blood is spilled in the greenest fieldsThe orange men rememberThe old horses' yearly shunTo ride again with long dead menAnd kill or be killed for the one thing doneThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishOne day things will changeAnd then you know, you will seeJust how lucky they can all really beHow in the orange and the greenMeets on the white in betweenThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the IrishThe Knuck of the Irish