Cathleen Ni Houlh (sic)
How your poets and martyrs grieve and sigh
And wonder what crazy madness
Drove them to fight and die
To remove an imperial yoke
Only to be replaced by pimps
In pin stripe suits
Backed up by men in wigs
And flowing gowns
Who speak of justice and integrity
Yet for thirty pieces of silver
Made a whore of you
And robbed you of your dignity
Who is this Irish Permanent Erection Society
That has stolen you of your youth
And robbed you blind
Do they understand principle?
Yes
When interest is attached
Sometimes compound sometimes simple
And with a little bit of luck
One or two penalties
So Cathleen time you broke free
No longer a hooker be
Get rid of those pimps purveyors of felith
Take control of your destiny
For you are An Lady Mhor
And you can command the respect of
All once more
An Lady Mhor
Bád Mhór
Bád ana deas
Bád ana laidir
Buiochas le Día