Danny Boy, Danny Boy Lyrics - Fine Malt - House Of Pain

Peckerwood, Peckerwood, tell me your tale 

Please do explain why your skin's so pale 

And you're so funky, now how can that be? 

Like a bird in a tree on the TLP 

It's the Irish intellect, no one disrespected 

My shit'll get hectic real quick 

This is the House Of Pain 

And pain is one thing we're not 'cause we know we've got 

Style and fashion, smoke some hash and 

I'm smackin' up girls like cars were crashin' 

Danny Boy, Danny Boy, the pipes are callin' 

Thought you was a winner, ya was, now you're all in 

That's right, damn skimpy, ya can't get with me 

I run the whole track and leave ya three laps back 

Chop suey don't do me no good 

I gotta have corn beef and cabbage, if I wanna manage 

I never eat pig but I'll fuck up a potato 

I'm not a dago but pasta's all that 

My pockets stay pha, so step the fuck back 

You wanna move on me, you better bring an army 

I rip shit daily, ask my man Tom Baily 

I'm rockin' the clock like if I was Bill Hailey 

I'm cockin' my glock and I got my shileighly 

So watch your lady, because I'm 

(Danny Boy) 

Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy) 

You know it's Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy) 

'S Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy) 

You know it's Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy) 

'S Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy) 

You know it's Danny Boy 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

From glen to glen and down the mountainside 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy) 

(Danny Boy, Da Danny Boy)