Come out Ye Black and Tans

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us
And each and every night when me father’d come home tight
He’d invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
Oh, come out you black and tans
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes in Killashandra
Come let me hear you tell
How you slammed the great Pernell
When you fought them well and truly persecuted
Where are the smears and jeers
That you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of sixteen were executed
Come tell us how you slew
Those brave Arabs two by two
Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows
How you bravely slew each one
With your sixteen pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow
The day is coming fast
And the time is here at last
When each yeoman will be cast aside before us
And if there be a need
Sure my kids wil sing, «Godspeed!»
With a verse or two of Steven Beehan’s chorus