Walking around town with chest puffed
They called me a poof until I’d had enough, three uppercuts duj duj and dujjjj
Junkie who lives in a bush leans right in, inches from mush, got a smoke buuuud?
Not even got to beggars bush or shepherd’s bush but my shepherd crooks makes me seek out crooks
Ship out like the rest of them, why not Canada
More like cantada, kick ‘em like Cantana
Over there they’re sick of Irish kind, can’t ag caint without hearing another pint
Swilling pale Irish rind with orange hair that flame designed, wind wouldn’t wind
Through you thick as a brick wall, kind a bullet pings off or sticks in.
Alchemisland 
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