Two, three, four

The Shankill butchers ride tonight
You better shut your windows tight
They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives
And taking all their whiskey by the pint

'Cause everybody knows
If you don't 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

'Cause everybody knows
If you don't 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

The Shankill butchers on the rise
They're waiting until the dead of nights
They're picking at their fingers with their knives
And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs

'Cause everybody knows
If you don't 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
The Shankill butchers wanna cut you
The Shankill butchers wanna catch you, awake
Awake
Awake
Awake

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): Colin Meloy