It ain't a plain job To build delight empires Not for the green skins Out of space and time They deem it's too much Our red lights, our gin mills They deem we're feeble, Ain't worth a rotten dime A pack of vultures Wants us either canned or popped Storm clouds gather Over trouble boys Both mobs and coppers Will come for our heads They have been warned Oh well, they had some choice One more burst Off you go to dine with angels One more shot Kiss the ground, kiss the floor One more burst This is our hooch and wenches One more blast Send them through the wall! Oh, the joy of firefight (yeah!) Tommy Guns will set it right (right!) What a ritzy, bloody night! We paint the walls red We glee at fire flashes We let the bombs fly Yet they're pushing on Why, let them test our Red velvet, golden fortress All packing heat, our Goblin boys are pumping metal One more burst Off you go to dine with angels One more shot Kiss the ground, kiss the floor One more burst This is our hooch and wenches One more blast Send them flying through the wall One more burst Off you go to dine with angels One more blast Send them through the wall! Oh, the joy of firefight (yeah!) Tommy Guns will set it right (right!) What a ritzy, bloody night!