The red rose of (...) was pinned to her breast
Where the black heart of folk music beats between rests
Where the beauty MacGowen swung McColl's axe around
Navigating his way
Through the streets of this town
Hallelujah we're drunk to hell
And it's good that we are
O great eradicator
Who is driving this car
Fill up my radiator
With the great eradicator
Then carry me home, you're never alone
With the great eradicator
Those sons of the water, the dishevelled crew
Spanning the steel iron, women, for you
And the sad rent boys and the melody men
Roaring the guts of an accordion
Hallelujah we're drunk to hell
And it's good that we are
O great eradicator
Who is driving this car
Fill up my radiator
With the great eradicator
Then carry me home, you're never alone
With the great eradicator
Then carry me home, you're never alone
With the great eradicator
