Alchemisland

You’re hardly in a position to be making demands

Reclaiming land, wearing proudly the ancient badge

The league, the lads in league from Cametogue to Kiltegan

In league with Adam’s band, raiding like red-bearded norseman bands

Three letters our band, free what is fettered, black wristband

Black velvet band playing while me and the missus tryst, latticed hands

Bomb damage like a twister had ripped through the sandwich place

Bolted down seats ripped away

Pretty faces replaced with grimtoothed meat masks

Rang ahead, like a meal was being planned

They weren’t quick enough getting everyone to the path

They wish my group were disbanded, balaclava’d bandits

We’re meeting, discussing aquatic landings, hit then backout tactics

Hard to biteback with my socks crammed into your piehole

Fingers snipped back, once vital now useless hands

Hope you hadn’t planned on a trade or a craft

All you’ll be good for is wristing twats

Left you a handless man

Teach you about overextending your hand

Revenge raids on Black and Tan bases

Uncontained rage across the land, inflamed

In the hills ununiformed rangers ranging

More landing daily, disembarking on quiet quays

No sunrays, no dogs barking, 3D printed rifles and Dutch parkas

Soon will come the day, Tiocfaidh ár lá in red paint

We’re blocking the gates, you can’t brush past us.