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She was the parson's daughter |
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With her red and rosy cheeks |
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She went to church on Sunday |
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And sang the anthem sweet |
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The parson was a misery |
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So scraggy and so thin |
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Look here, you motherfuckers |
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If you lead a life of sin |
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And there's fire down below |
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He took his text from Malachi |
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And pulled a weary face |
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Well, I fucked off for Africa |
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And there, I feel from grace |
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'Cause there's fire down below |
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The parson's little daughter |
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Was as sweet as sugar-candy |
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I said to her, \"us sailors |
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Would make lovers neat and handy\" |
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'Cause there's fire down below |
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She says to me, \"you sailors |
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Are a bunch of fucking liars |
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And all of you are bound to hell |
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To feed the fucking fires\" |
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'Cause there's fire down below\" |
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Well, there's fire down below, my lad |
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So we must do what we oughta |
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'Cause the fire is not half as hot |
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As the parson's little daughter |
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And there's fire down below |
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Yes, there's fire (fire) |
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Down (down) |
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Below (below) |
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Yes, there's fire (fire) |
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Down (down) |
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Below (below) |
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Yes, there's fire (fire) |
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Down (down) |
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Below (below) |
