Wearing coats that shined

Both red and green colors

From their sunny island

From their boats of iron

They looked upon the promised land

Where surely life was sweet

On the rising tide

To New York City did they ride

Into the street

They are hounded down

To the bottom of a bad town

Amid the ruins

Where they learn to fear

An angry race of fallen kings

Their dark companions

While the memory of

Their southern sky was clouded by

A savage winter

Every patron saint

Hung on the wall, shared the room

With twenty sinners

By the blackened wall

He does it all

He thinks he's died and gone to heaven

Now the tale is told

By the old man back home

He reads the letter

How they are paid in gold

Just to babble in the back room

All night and waste their time