Justice
Lyrics by Mat Greaves
In the town of Belfast there lived a beautiful young girl,
You would think that she was Queen of the Land,
Her eyes they shown like diamonds,
And her hair hung over her shoulders,
Tied up with a black velvet band.
Tied up with a cursed black velvet band.
She met with a handsome nobleman,
He slipped a strong drink in her hand,
What happened that night, no one else would say.
But she was beaten black and blue,
She was ravaged and ashamed,
But of course, the nobleman, no one blamed
And she cried,
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For that son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! He said does not suit the rich! (x2)
She limped home the next morning, hoping that all was the same,
Months passed, and she could not hide her shame.
When her townsfolk and family shunned her, and then forced her out of the land,
A mother with a burden unplanned.
All alone with her cursed black velvet band.
But still nobody blamed the noble man.
And she cried.
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For the son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! She said, passes over the rich!
Oh she cried…
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For the son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! She said, just a word to the rich!
Hey!
(bridge)
She met with a crazy Gypsy band
While wandering through the land,
We rolled up in our caravan,
We said we’ll take good care of you
Oh and your little chavo too,
But you’ll have to lose that cursed black velvet band.
And she said, “Let’s give it to the nobleman!”
And we sang…
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For that son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! For the poor and the rich! (x2)
So it was, back to Belfast, it was, back to the bar,
Where we met with the same nobleman
She snuck up oh so quietly, ever so gracefully,
She slipped him that cursed black velvet band
And whispered,
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For that son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! For the poor, and the rich! (x2)
That night we all made noble shoes,
That night we all ate noble stew,
And said goodbye to the nobleman. Good-bye-aye-aye-aye-aye
Now his noble shit remains, from a gallows tree they hang,
Tied with a cursed black velvet band.
And her eyes they flame like fire, you’d think she was queen of the damned,
And her hair tied up in a black leather band,
Her eyes they flame like fire, and she roams with our caravan,
And her hair, tied up in a black leather band.
And we sing…
JUSTICE! For the scoundrel,
JUSTICE! For that son of a bitch,
JUSTICE! For the poor, and the rich! (x4)
