The red rose of (...) was pinned to her breast Where the black heart of folk music beats between rests Where the beauty MacGowen swung McColl's axe around Navigating his way Through the streets of this town Hallelujah we're drunk to hell And it's good that we are O great eradicator Who is driving this car Fill up my radiator With the great eradicator Then carry me home, you're never alone With the great eradicator Those sons of the water, the dishevelled crew Spanning the steel iron, women, for you And the sad rent boys and the melody men Roaring the guts of an accordion Hallelujah we're drunk to hell And it's good that we are O great eradicator Who is driving this car Fill up my radiator With the great eradicator Then carry me home, you're never alone With the great eradicator Then carry me home, you're never alone With the great eradicator