At eighteen years old and I ran the farm, these men came in with arms
They burnt the house, they took our lands, they broke us living plants
My father's said: "If you want to live then fight them like a man"
So I punched their nose and I kicked their ass but then my hands were cuffed

Take away, take away, take away, take away my son
Take away, take away, take away, take away my son

Give a little heart break, give a little soul
Give a little heart break, give a little soul

Six hundred years behind the bars was not enough for me
To change my mind to fightin' for my brothers from the tree
So at twenty-four I got on a horse and fought my enemy
But at the fields of play chucking in the back at least I did die free

Take away, take away, take away, take away my son
Take away, take away, take away, take away my son

Give a little heart break, give a little soul
Give a little heart break, give a little soul

Lalala...

Take away, take away, take away, take away my son
Take away, take away, take away, take away my son

Now my body is dead, but the spirit lives up here with all the Saints
Saint Patrick and I are having fun drinking tons of beer
Mean while or earth the Irish clans are fighting for their lands
I wish I was there with a gun in my hand, fighting for them to be free

Take away, take away, take away, take away my son
Oh please don't take away, take away, take away, take away my son