Greed
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That journey to the bank that he made twice a week
To cash in on percentage of the cut
Life so good, drive so easy
The only one he made with peepers shut
But eyes are getting wider in the vaults of the bank
Calculating draft after draft
Adding up just what makes the owner of the yacht
Much better than the owner of the raft
So give him hands clapping hands
Smiling Irish eyes
But please don't ever tax his next of kin
Strangled by the gap between the treetops and the skies
Hollands banking Ireland's sweetest thing
Pennies piled high, pounds cashed in
Caught between Alsatian and the gates
Poor can't risk not having any friends
Avaricious can't afford to have a mate
The crooks and the criminals
The gangsters and animals
Fleeing stripped down to the waist
Drenched in sweat or blood of their imaginary crimes
They were running from a fear called the eighth
So give him hands clapping hands
Smiling Irish eyes
But please don't ever tax his next of kin
Strangled by the gap between the treetops and the skies
Hollands banking Ireland's sweetest thing