Oh the Empire it is finished   No foreign lands to seize   So the greedy eye of England   I stirring towards the seas   Two hundred miles from Donegal   There's a place that's called Rockall   And the groping hands of Whitehall   Are grabbing at it's walls.       Chorus:   Oh rock on Rockall you'll never fall   For Britains greedy hands   Oh you'll meet the same resistance   Like you did in many lands   May the Seagulls rise and pluck your eyes   And the water crush your shell   And the natural gas will burn your ass   And blow you all to hell       This rock is part of Ireland   For it's written in folklore   When Finn McCool took a sod of grass   He threw it to the fore   When he tossed a pebble across the sea   Where ever did it fall   For the sod became the Isle of Man   Now the pebble's called Rockall      Chorus...      Oh the seas will not be silent   While Britannia grabs the waves   And remember that the Irish   Will no longer be your slaves   And remember that Britannia well   She rules the waves no more   So keep your hands off Rockall   It's Irish to the core.      Chorus...