The B'ys of Athenry

The B'ys of Athenry

The b'ys of Athenry get loaded on the train
No matter that the sun's up, they know their share of pain
Of dirt under the nail, of brows that can't be raised
Enough to meet the bar that would see them truly paid
Euros from the Landlord with his sneering, reaching arms
That enclose upon their privilege, enclose upon their farms
The b'ys of Athenry guffaw despite themselves
Sing their songs and crack their beers to drink them by the twelves