Words and Music: B.Warfield



Oh the Empire it is finished



No foreign lands to seize



So the greedy eye of England



I stirring 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.







Chorus:



Oh rock on Rockall you'll never fall



For Britains greedy hands



Oh 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







Chorus...







Oh the seas will not be silent



While Britannia grabs the waves



And remember that the Irish



Will no longer be your slaves



And remember that Britannia well



She rules the waves no more



So keep your hands off Rockall



It's Irish to the core.







Chorus