1. |
NO QUEEN, NO CROWN
02:13
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No queen … no crown,
rebels don’t back down.
(6 TIMES)
Don't call it a skirt,
or you're gonna get hurt.
Don't call it a dress,
or you'll be a mess.
You call it a kilt,
to honor blood spilt.
Wear it with pride,
for all that have died.
REPEAT
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2. |
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The time has come to make a choice,
So join the chorus, lend your voice.
Indulge the droning of a mumbling monk,
Or dance a jig with the bagpipe punk.
There are two bands that share one name,
Don’t be fooled, they’re not the same.
One’s English, one’s Irish, one’s dour, one’s fun.
Raise a glass to the new, what’s done is done.
We love boobies, banjos, bagpipes and beer,
Sine metu, we live without fear,
When the day is done, we just want to have fun,
And we will for year after year.
Fuck your fabric torture tubes,
Here’s my kilt, show us your boobs
All men love boobs, they come in all types,
And bounce up and down when John play the pipes.
Our sound is a beautiful subway crash,
We play for fun, we’ve no need for cash.
1916 meets 1977
Punk rock and bagpipes played at eleven.
We love boobies, banjos, bagpipes and beer,
Sine metu, we live without fear,
When the day is done, we just want to have fun,
And we will for year after year.
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3. |
THE SHEEP PRETEND
02:36
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The sheep pretend
The wolf will never come,
The sheepdog lives
For that day.
When evil seek,
To harm the weak,
There’s going to be
Hell to pay.
My brethren and I
Will gladly die,
To defend our
God given rights.
To take them away
Are you willing to pay
With your life,
All your days and nights?
The thin blue line is what I walk,
To protect the innocent from the dark.
You’re not half as smart
As you think,
Your liberal logic
Has an odd stink.
So raise your fist,
And take your knee,
You have a right to be dumb,
In my Land of the Free.
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4. |
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There's nothin' for us in Belfast
The Pound's old, and that's a pity
OK, so there's the Trident in Bangor
And then you walk back to the city
We ain't got nothin' but they don't really care
They don't even know you know
They just want money, we can take it or leave it
What we need
Is an Alternative Ulster
Grab it and change it, it's yours
Get an Alternative Ulster
Ignore the bores and their laws
Get an Alternative Ulster
Be an anti-security force
Alter your native Ulster
Alter your native land
Take a look where you're livin'
You got the army on the street
And the R-U-C dog of repression
Is barking at your feet
Is this the kind of place you want to live?
Is this where you want to be?
Is this the only life we're gonna have?
What we need
Is an Alternative Ulster
Grab it and change it, it's yours
Get an Alternative Ulster
Ignore the bores and their laws
Get an Alternative Ulster
Be an anti-security force
Alter your native Ulster
Alter your native land
They say they're a part of you
And that's not true, you know
They say they've got control of you
And that's a lie, you know
They say you will never
Be free, free, free
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Oh, you've done it now!
Songwriters: Jake Burns / Gordon Ogilvie
Alternative Ulster lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
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5. |
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In colonial Kingston,
the Brits wore red coats.
We shot out their eyes,
and slit their fat throats.
So they burned down the town,
and raped some young girls.
So we split their thick skulls,
under powdered wig curls.
Sail home British soldiers,
you're not welcome here.
You can keep your mutton maidens,
we'll keep our fine deer.
Sail home British soldiers,
your empire is done.
You may weep in your porridge,
at the setting of the sun.
We'll return from the woods,
with our clay colored friends.
To teach you your means,
shall justify no ends.
We'll put bombs on your yachts,
and ground glass in your bread.
And beat you with shillelaghs,
until long last you are dead.
Sail home British soldiers,
you're not welcome here.
You can keep your mutton maidens,
we'll keep our fine deer.
Sail home British soldiers,
your empire is done.
You may weep in your porridge,
at the setting of the sun.
Neither collar nor crown,
shall this patriot wear.
You can't have my musket,
You'll die if you dare.
So fuck off you fucking fucks,
and fuck you as well.
Before I bow once,
I'll see you in hell.
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6. |
BONNIE LITTLE SCOTT
04:05
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Death by misadventure, the Bonnie little Scott,
whiskey was his maiden, he slept with her a lot.
He loved her on the stage, he downed her in the bar,
he pounded her all night, then passed out in his car.
It’s a long way to the top, but not so far to fall,
When you’re drinking like a fish, and then you lose it all.
The original punk rock piper, he showed us all the way,
He was on a highway to hell, hell’s bells now he’ll play.
Neck deep in naughty knickers, the rock & roll life,
He never settled down, had no time for a wife.
The thundering guitars, of the brothers Young,
Lurid innuendos were the songs that Bon sung.
CHORUS
A whole lotta Rosie, shook him all night long,
He put his love into her, then he wrote a song.
A tattooed little lion, dirty deeds done dirt cheap,
We once were thunderstruck, now there’s not a peep.
So let there be rock, he’ll be back in black,
Singing who made who, and she’s got the jack.
Time to shoot to thrill with a stick of T.N.T.
He’ll walk all over you, do you think you’re really ready?
CHORUS
Bon was the night prowler, lover from down under,
AC/DC has struck us, with their Ozzie thunder,
Fronted by the man, little leering piper,
Bon was a killer, deadly as a viper.
Rock & roll ain’t noise pollution, shot down in flames,
Hell ain’t a bad place to be, for whiskey drinking games.
The High voltage girl’s got rhythm, so have a drink on me,
We’ve got the biggest balls that you’re ever going to see.
CHORUS
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7. |
DUDELSACK
02:47
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The lassies love my dudelsack,
I play for them all day.
The laddies love my dudelsack,
But that don’t make them gay.
The children love my dudelsack,
and that is nothing wrong,
for when I squeeze my dudelsack,
It plays their favorite song.
The angels love my dudelsack,
They can hear it up on high.
The demons love my dudelsack,
In hell I’ll play when I die.
Fingering my chanter,
And blowing in my stick,
to make this kind of music,
Is quite a clever trick.
Jigs and reels and marches,
Played up at eleven,
When they need their ears to bleed,
In both hell and heaven.
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8. |
SPILT UPON ME KILT
03:47
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On St. Paddy’s Day I spilt upon me kilt
A red solo cup of green beer
2 shots of Jamesons
3 chicken wings
4 cigar ashes
5 intimate emissions
6 shamrock shakes
7 gobs from yobs
8 buckets of blood
9 greasy skid marks
10 gallons of puke
11 hunks of haggis
12 pints of Guinness
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9. |
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When life tries to get you down,
Turn that frown upside down,
Kill the king and take his crown
And Chuck it in the Fuck-it bucket.
When your date is running late,
Don’t just moan and masterbate,
You’re the master of your own fate,
So chuck it in the fuck-it bucket.
When Satan gives you his eat shit stare
Take that hump up on his dare,
Show him that you just don’t care
And chuck it in the fuck-it bucket.
(Serve him his ass medium rare)
When that smell is over-ripe
Don’t just gag, bitch and gripe,
Smoke it in your “don’t care” pipe,
And chuck it in the fuck-it bucket.
So never cry over milk spilt,
Never shrink, and never wilt,
Stand tall and lift up your kilt,
And chuck it in the fuck-it bucket.
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10. |
COUNTING OTHER'S SINS
03:23
|
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Counting others’ sins doesn’t make you a saint,
There’s no God in heaven to hear your complaint,
He can’t make you something that you ain’t
The self-appointed savior seeks to deceive
And tell you what you must believe
When his day is done they’ll be no reprieve
Calling bad behavior a religion is not a free pass,
If you hate gays and oppress women you can kiss my ass.
You have no knowledge, you have no class.
It is better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven,
Angels roll snake-eyes, Satan seven eleven,
Counting cardinal sins, are there only seven?
Counting others’ sins doesn’t make you a saint,
There’s no God in heaven to hear your complaint,
You’ll always be a stain on Satan’s taint.
The self-appointed savior seeks to deceive
And tell you what you must believe
His suffering in hell he cannot conceive
Calling bad behavior a religion is not a free pass,
If you hate gays and oppress women you can kiss my ass.
Choke on your wafer at your black mass.
It is better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven,
Angels roll snake-eyes, Satan seven eleven,
Counting cardinal sins, there are more than seven.
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11. |
MCGOVERN'S BAR AND GRILL
03:51
|
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At the top of Tolentine Hill,
sat McGovern's Bar & Grill.
Beneath the L on Avenue Jerome,
is where Mom and Pop made their home.
Every Sunday, my Dad tended bar.
I'd wander the streets, but never too far.
Dropped dimes in the jukebox, played Black Velvet Band,
and listened to tales of old Ireland.
Under the watchful eyes of the wise owl,
They'd wipe up spilled beer with a rancid bar towel.
Sawdust on the floor would soak up sloshed beer.
And singing Danny Boy would oft raise a tear.
While on the bar sat a can for Nor-Aide,
not to buy books, but guns and grenade.
My pint of black stuff was really just Coke,
all the old men laughed, it was a fine joke.
And as soon as night fell and all was dark,
my uncle smoked fags across the street in the park.
At the end of the day, we'd dine up above,
on pot roast, mash and grandmother's love.
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12. |
||||
|
There's nothin' for us in Belfast
The Pound's old, and that's a pity
OK, so there's the Trident in Bangor
And then you walk back to the city
We ain't got nothin' but they don't really care
They don't even know you know
They just want money, we can take it or leave it
What we need
Is an Alternative Ulster
Grab it and change it, it's yours
Get an Alternative Ulster
Ignore the bores and their laws
Get an Alternative Ulster
Be an anti-security force
Alter your native Ulster
Alter your native land
Take a look where you're livin'
You got the army on the street
And the R-U-C dog of repression
Is barking at your feet
Is this the kind of place you want to live?
Is this where you want to be?
Is this the only life we're gonna have?
What we need
Is an Alternative Ulster
Grab it and change it, it's yours
Get an Alternative Ulster
Ignore the bores and their laws
Get an Alternative Ulster
Be an anti-security force
Alter your native Ulster
Alter your native land
They say they're a part of you
And that's not true, you know
They say they've got control of you
And that's a lie, you know
They say you will never
Be free, free, free
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Alternative Ulster
Oh, you've done it now!
Songwriters: Jake Burns / Gordon Ogilvie
Alternative Ulster lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
|
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13. |
||||
|
Crawl back in your shithole,
You’re not welcome here.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Our president mongers fear.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Trump is standing tall.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Stay on your side of the wall.
Crawl back in your shithole,
All Haitians have AIDS.
Crawl back in your shithole,
All Mexicans are rapists, except Trump’s maids.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Trump’s a very stable genius.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Trump says he has a huge penis.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Trump can’t find you on a map.
Crawl back in your shithole,
Give Kim Jong Un a bitch slap.
Crawl back in your shithole,
The welfare state’s too cushy
Crawl back in your shithole,
Grab Lady Liberty by the pussy
Crawl back in your shithole,
How does Putin’s cock taste?
Crawl back in your shithole,
A golden shower awaits.
Orange Julius in office,
stuffing immigrant families into coffins.
separating families while combining church and state.
Piggly wiggly combover son of a bitch,
little feet, little hands, little dick!
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Alternative Ulster New York
Founded in March 2015, Alternative Ulster hails from NY State's Catskill's region. Members are John McGovern on bagpipes and banjo, Todd Henry on vocals and drums and Jay Anderson on guitar and bass as well as all recording and mixing. While recording their Christmas CD, the lads needed a lady for the female lines. Wendy Henry's singing so blew them away that she's now a full member of the band ... more
Alternative Ulster recommends:
I came, I saw, I left
by Surmiser
Great original music by our recording engineer and guitarist
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