[0:0]Two, three, four
[0:14]The Shankill butchers ride tonight
[0:20]You'd better shut your windows tight
[0:26]They're sharpening their cleavers and their knives
[0:32]And taking all their whiskey by the pint
[0:37]Cause everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
[0:49]A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
[1:0]Everybody moan, everybody shake
[1:7]The Shankill butchers want to catch you awake
[1:26]They used to be just like me and you
[1:31]They used to be sweet little boys
[1:37]But something went horribly askew
[1:43]Now killing is their only source of joy
[1:48]Cause everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
[2:2]A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
[2:12]Everybody moan, everybody shake
[2:19]The Shankill butchers want to catch you awake
[3:1]The Shankill butchers on the rise
[3:7]They're waiting 'till the dead of night
[3:13]They're picking at their fingers with their knives
[3:19]And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs
[3:24]'Cause everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words
[3:39]A wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls
[3:48]Everybody moan, everybody shake
[3:55]The Shankill butchers want to catch you
[4:1]The Shankill butchers want to cut you
[4:7]The Shankill butchers want to catch you awake, awake, awake

Two, three, four
The Shankill butchers ride tonight
You'd 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 want to 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 want to catch you awake
The Shankill butchers on the rise
They're waiting 'till the dead of night
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 want to catch you
The Shankill butchers want to cut you
The Shankill butchers want to catch you awake, awake, awake