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