I Was The Rector's Son, Born To

It's No Go My Honey Love, It's No Go My Poppet;work Your Hands From Day To Day, The Winds Will Blow The Profit.the Glass Is Falling Hour By Hour, The Glass Will Fall For Ever,but If You Break The Bloody Glass You Won't Hold Up The Weather.

A City Built Upon Mud; A Culture Built Upon Profit; Free Speech Nipped In The Bud, The Minority Always Guilty. Why Should I Want To Go Back To You, Ireland, My Ireland?

I Am Not Yet Born; Forgive Me For The Sins That In Me The World Shall Commit, My Words When They Speak Me, My Thoughts When They Think Me, My Treason Engendered By Traitors Beyound Me, My Life When They Murder By Means Of My Hands, My Death When They Live Me.

Better Authentic Mammon Than A Bogus God.

Let Them Not Make Me A Stone And Let Them Not Spill Me, Otherwise Kill Me.