If I should fall from grace with God 
Where no doctor can relieve me 
If I'm buried 'neath the sod 
But the angels won't receive me 
 
Let me go, boys 
Let me go, boys 
Let me go down in the mud 
Where the rivers all run dry 
 
This land was always ours 
Was the proud land of our fathers 
It belongs to us and them 
Not to any of the others 
 
Bury me at sea 
Where no murdered ghost can haunt me 
If I rock upon the waves 
No corpse can lie upon me 
 
Coming up threes, boys 
Coming up threes, boys 
Let them go down in the mud 
Where the rivers all run dry

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