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Peckerwood, peckerwood, tell me your tale
|
Please do explain why your skin's so pale
|
And you're so funky, now how can that be
|
Like a bird in a tree on the TLP
|
It's the Irish intellect, no one disrespected
|
My shit'll get hectic real quick
|
This is the House Of Pain (pain)
|
And pain is one thing we're not
|
Cause we know we've got
|
Style and fashion, smoke some hash and
|
I'm smackin' up girls like cars were crashin'
|
Danny Boy, Danny Boy, the pipes are callin'
|
Thought you was a winner, ya was, now you're all in
|
That's right, damn skimpy, ya can't get with me
|
I run the whole track and leave ya three laps back
|
Chop seuy don't do me no good
|
I gotta have corn beef and cabbage, if I wanna manage
|
I never eat pig, but I'll fuck up a potato
|
I'm not a dago, but pasta's all that
|
My pockets stay phat, so step the fuck back
|
You wanna move on me, you better bring an army
|
I rip shit daily, ask my man Tom Baily
|
I'm rockin' the clock like if I was Bill Hailey
|
I'm cockin' my glock, and I got my shileighly
|
So watch your lady, because I'm
|
|
Chorus
|
|
(Danny Boy!) Danny Boy
|
(Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy
|
(Danny Boy!) 'S Danny Boy
|
(Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy
|
(Danny Boy!) 'S Danny Boy
|
(Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy
|
(Da ney Boy, Da Da ney Boy)
|
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
|
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Danny Boy
|
| House Of Pain |
