Flogging Molly - Tobacco

The floggings they're a plenty but reasons there are none
Our backs belong to landlords where branded is thier 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 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

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