歌词
It was the feast of St. Stephen
And we set out dawn to get even
And no one would utter a word
As we hunted, the treacherous bird
That ratted us out to the empires
Took everything as I desired
We knew that all the town's eyes
We fixed on the gallant Wren boys
It was a cold crisp bright beautiful day
And I'm like this and cold, and I'm not a slave of hell
And we beamed like the stars
As we led the parade
In small towns like these, everyone should know their place
That's just the rural way
Crocodile tears on the pillow
She was heartless was my brother's widow
She planned to sell up and escape
With proceeds of our family estate
Centuries of our hands had toiled
Our bloodline straight through this soil
Would our grave intentions be made?
By word or by hand or by spade?
Or like the Wren Boys in the dead of night
And asked me for to reclaim our birth right
With all the town's eyes fixed the other way
You forfeit all rights when you're not born in this place
That's just the rural way
That's just the rural way
That's just the rural way