Lack Of Limits

Come Out Ye Black And Tans

Lack Of Limits


Tom: Am

Am                                       G
I was born on a Dublin street, where the royal drums did beat
Am
And the loving English feet they walked all over us
    C                           G
And every single night, when my father came home tight
   Am                   G                Am G Am
He awoke the neighbours outside with his chorus


[Chorus]
Am                                      G
Come out you Black´n´Tans, come out and fight me like a man
           Am
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders
           C                     G
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away
           Am              G       Am    G    Am
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra


[Verse 2]
      Am                           G
Come let us hear you tell, how you slammed the great Parnell
        Am
How you fought him well and truely persecuted
       C                                  G
Where were your sneers and jeers that you loudly let us hear
         Am         G           Am  G  Am
When our heroes of sixteen were executed


[Chorus]
Am                                      G
Come out you Black´n´Tans, come out and fight me like a man
           Am
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders
           C                     G
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away
           Am              G       Am    G    Am
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra


[Verse 3]
      Am                           G
Come tell us how you slew them oul arabs two by two
           Am
Like the zulus they had spears and bows and arrows
         C                          G
How bravely you faced one with your brandnew pumpgun
          Am                 G               Am G Am
And you frightened the poor natives to their marrow


[Chorus]
Am                                      G
Come out you Black´n´Tans, come out and fight me like a man
           Am
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders
           C                     G
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away
           Am              G       Am    G    Am
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra


[Verse 4]
Am                                 G
Now the time is running fast and I think the days are here
Am
When each f*ck*ng English yoeman, he runs before us
    C                               G
And if there'll be a need, then our kids will sing "God speed!"
        Am              G             Am  G  Am
With a verse of two of Steven Beehan´s chorus