Rockall

The Empire is finished,
No foreign lands to steal.
So the greedy eye of England is turning towards the sea.
200 Miles from Donegal, there's a place thats called Rockall.
And the groping hands of Whitehall are groping at it's walls.
Oh Rock on Rockall you'll never fall,
To Britain's greedy hands.
And you'll meet the same resistance like you did in man lands.
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes
And the waters 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 Fionn McCool took a sod of grass he threw it to the fore.
Then he tossed a pebble across the sea.
Whereever did it fall - The sod became the Isle of Man, the pebble's called Rockall.
Oh Rock on Rockall you'll never fall,
To Britain's greedy hands.
And you'll meet the same resistance like you did in man lands.
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes
And the waters crush your shell,
And the natural gas will burn your ass and blow you all to Hell.
Oh the sea's will not be silent, while Britannia rules the waves.
And remember that the Irish will no longer be her slaves,
And remember that Britannia well - You'll rule the waves no more,
So keep your hands off Rockall, she's Irish to the core.
Rock on Rockall you'll never fall,
To Britain's greedy hands.
And you'll meet the same resistance like you did in man lands.
May the seagulls rise and pluck your eyes
And the waters crush your shell,
And the natural gas will burn your ass and blow you all to Hell.