Bastard of the Bunch
Peelers, The
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I was a brawler, black was the color
Red was the blood we shed
Down in the old town, just near the tunnel
Where the old grey men were fed
St. Michael defends me, our lady mends me
I'm up with the union noise
I'll hear your confession, down on the docks
With the cops and the factory boys
And the words of the men on the block rang out
And this is what they said
It's not an Irish wedding 'til someone throws a punch
Or the Peelers do arrive man alive more than once
Bless ye Mrs. Monaghan and thank ye for the lunch
I hit your son-in-law Jimmy he's the bastard of the bunch
Memories of his life down on the West Side
Time on the killing floor
Angelic chaos where the true state of grace was
The Lincoln with the suicide doors
Respected and tested rarely was bested
When the bare-knuckle boys came by
Each born with a good chin, Irish American
When he gave up the ghost we cried
And the words of the men on the block rang out
And this is what they said
It's not an Irish wedding 'til someone throws a punch
Or the Peelers do arrive man alive more than once
Bless ye Mrs. Monaghan and thank ye for the lunch
I hit your son-in-law Jimmy he's the bastard of the bunch
Where have you been and where'd you go?
Who did you love? Who did you bury along the road?
And I'll gut this life from stem to stern
Turn the lights out when I go
Grieve for the heroes, men from the boroughs
Legends of the emigrant breed
They followed the old man, they humped some hose
With yer Paddy out on ladder three
Well it's been a long night of whiskey and bagpipes
Sounds of a slow, slow air
No more a rover, the battle is over
Hope the road rose to meet you there
And the words of the men on the block rang out
And this is what they said
It's not an Irish wedding 'til someone throws a punch
Or the Peelers do arrive man alive more than once
Bless ye Mrs. Monaghan and thank ye for the lunch
I hit your son-in-law Jimmy he's the bastard of the bunch