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Letras: The Decemberists. Shankhill Butchers.

:
The Shankill butchers ride tonight
You better shut your windows tight
Theyre sharpening their cleavers and their knives
And taking all their whisky by the pint
Cuz everybody knows
If you dont mind your mother's words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan everybody shake
The shankill butchers wanna catch you
Awake

They used to be just like me and you
They used to be sweet little boys
But something went horribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy
Cuz everybodys knows...

(repeat)

The shankill butchers on the rise
Theyre waiting till the dead of night
Theyre picking at their fingers with their knives
And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs
Cuz everybod knows...

(repeat)

The shankill butchers wanna kill you
The shankill butchers wanna cut you
The shankill butchers wanna catch you
Awake
Awake
Awake
Awake