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    My father he rides in your ships;

    And I know he would never mean harm,

    But to see both sides of a quarrel

    Is to judge without haste or alarm


    Oh, oh, helpless and slow,

    And you don't have anywhere to go

    You take away homes from the homeless

    And leave them to die in the cold

    The gypsy who begged for your presents

    He will laugh in your face when you're old


    Well, one man he drinks up his whiskey

    Another he drinks up his wine

    And they'll drink till their eyes are red with hate

    For those of a different kind


    When the rivers run quicker than trouble

    I'll be there at your side in the flood

    It was all I could do to keep myself

    From taking revenge on your blood

    (2x chorus)

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