Oh, it has to be Irish, why? Because I want a wake, spend all the casket money on alcohol my friends, my gift to you. Chuck me in the ground and have a good time telling stories.
His eyes they close and his last breath spoke he had seen all to be seen
a life once full now an empty vase wilt the blossoms on his early grave
walk away me boys walk away me boys and my morning we'll be free
wipe that golden tear from your mother dear and raise what's left of the flag for me
then the rosely beads count to 1 2 3 fell apart as they hit the floor
in a garb of black we must pay respect to the color we were born to mourn
walk away me boys walk away me boys and my morning we'll be free
wipe that golden tear from your mother dear and raise what's left of the flag for me
YEAH! Now jig!