The Rumjacks — ‘Eight Beers’ McGee

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A true story & a tribute to the life of one young man, speak his name

With achin’ heart & steady hand
Im puttin pen to paper father dear
I trust these words’ll find you
And pray that you can read ’em through your tears
They say a man thats born to sing
Can scare away his woes
And banish all his anger & his pain
But the screamin’ jn my head
Killed the singin’ in my soul
And i fear i’ll never recall the tune again

Ive trouble with the sleepin’
My shadows weight impossible to bear
I hear my Sister weepin’
And callin to me from that other where
The names o’ them I loved
Are carved into my skin
The greatest crew a fightr ever had
They call us gypsy bastards
And say it like its sin
That all our wars are merry
And all our songs are sad

Tell em I went out dancin’ tell em I went to war
Tell em whatever you want to all the same
Its said a man dies first when hes parted wi’ his soul
And second when folk forget to speak his name

Derry born & barely raised
Id hardly bear to see the place again
‘Til in merrie bloody England
I found myself a brother to the end
Its proper that youre grievin’
Yer poorer for me leavin’
The best & fairest any given day
Let Matty, Marco, Luke & John
Bless the slab im lyin on
Kiss me arse & send me on me way

A half a dozen monkeys
The Devil sent to snap me o’er his knee
I slapped their filthy tongues back in their skulls
And did it laughin’ wickedly
Smash the right & fuck the left
I’ll curse em with my dyin’ breath
As bent as each t’other I would say
The only drum i march to is me Irish bloody heart
Kickin’ out against its brittle cage