Rock On Rockall

Brian Warfield

Oh the Empire it is finished
No foreign lands to seize
So the greedy eye of England
Is turning towards the seas
Two hundred miles from Donegal
There’s a place that’s called Rockall
And the groping hands of Whitehall
Are grabbing at it’s walls

Oh rock on Rockall you’ll never fall
For Britains greedy hands
Or you’ll meet the same resistance
Like you did in many lands
May the Seagulls rise and pluck your eyes
And the water crush your shell
And the natural gas will burn your ass
And blow you all to hell

This rock is part of Ireland
For it’s written in folklore
When Finn McCool took a sod of grass
He threw it to the fore
When he tossed a pebble across the sea
Where ever did it fall
For the sod became the Isle of Man
Now the pebble’s called Rockall

Oh the seas will not be silent
While Britannia grabs the waves
Remember that the Irish
Will no longer be your slaves
Remember that Britannia well
She rules the waves no more
Keep your hands off Rockall
It’s Irish to the core