We are God’s Chosen People, happy day!
Let’s sing with joy and celebrate his name,
Our infants’ voices please him as they play,
Who chose to die, whilst at some childish game.
They’ve mown our lawn to make it nice and tidy,
The Christians’ Lord’s their shepherd, they’ll not want,
Eight decades long, they’ve worked for The Almighty,
And dealt in death with air so nonchalant.
Great Britain does God’s will, sends those war planes
That Bomber Burnham helps the Yanks to fly.
So, bravely, we’ll comply without complaints,
While death rains down upon us from the sky.
On blood and bones, we’ve built that Promised Land,
Our Chosen Babies gladly lent a hand.
Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,
Dé Céadaoin, an séú lá is fiche de mhí Lúnasa,
an bhliain dhá mhíle is fiche a sé (26/8/2026)
