- Votes:
- Genres:
- Folk
- Punk
 
- Tags:
- celtic
- folk punk
- irish
 
- See also:
Flogging Molly - Tobacco lyrics
Off to hell we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the God we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 'Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure
 They dragged us from our homeland wit' their musket and their gun
 Cromwell and his round heads battered all we knew
 Shackled hopes of freedom, we're now but stolen goods
 Dark is the horizon, blackened from the sun
 This rotten cage of Bridgetown is where I now belong
 Off to hell we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the God we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 Red leg down a peg blistered burns the soul
 The floggings they're a plenty but reasons there are none
 Our backs belong to landlords where branded is their name
 Paid for with ten shillings cheap labor never breaks
 The silver moon is shinin', cools the copper blood
 Where the livin' meet the dead and together dance as one
 Off to hell we must sail for the shores of sweet BarbadosFlogging Molly - Tobacco - http://motolyrics.com/flogging-molly/tobacco-lyrics.html
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the God we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 Agony, will you cleanse this misery?
 For it's never again I'll breathe the air of home
 From this sandy edge
 The rolling sea breaks my revenge
 With each whisper a thousand waves I hear roar
 I'm coming home
 Dark is the horizon
 Blackened by the sun
 This rotten cage of Bridgetown
 Is where I now belong
 Off to hell we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the God we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 Off to hell we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the God we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island









