A Fistful O' Roses - The Rumjacks

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 & 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 & toss out all the whores,

Wi' a fistful o' half dead roses.

May all the Autumn leaves turn to Twenties at yer feet,

And the high & 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 & his praises,

‘Til they strike him off the roll & chuck him doon a hole,

Wi' a fistful o' half dead roses.