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Shipped hundreds of thousand of people from Ireland To Barbados This is where those beautiful people It's a thing we call Tobacco All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados The sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in Tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island 'Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure They dragged us from our homeland with the musket and their gun Cromwell and his roundheads battered all we knew Shackled hopes of freedom, we're naught but stolen goods Dark is the horizon Blackened from the sun This rotten cage of Bridgetown Is where I now belong All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in Tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island Red leg, down a peg, blistered burns the soul The floggings they're a plenty but reasons there are none Our backs belong to landlords, where branded is there name Paid for with ten shillings, cheap labor never breaks The silver moon is shining Cools the copper blood The living meet the dead Together dance as one All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados Sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in Tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island Agony, will you cleanse this misery

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