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Lyrics: 
 All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 
 'Twas 1659 forgotten now for sure
 They dragged us from our homeland with the musket and their gun
 Cromwell and his roundheads battered all we knew
 Shackled hopes of freedom, we're naught but stolen goods
 
 Dark is the horizon
 Blackened from the sun
 This rotten cage of Bridgetown
 Is where I now belong
 
 All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 
 Red leg, down a peg, blistered burns the soul
 The floggings they're a plenty but reasons there are none
 Our backs belong to landlords, where branded is there name
 Paid for with ten shillings, cheap labor never breaks
 
 The silver moon is shining
 Cools the copper blood
 Where the living meet the dead
 And together dance as one
 
 All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 
 Agony, will you cleanse this misery?
 For it's never again I'll breathe the air of home
 From this sandy edge, the rolling sea breaks my revenge
 With each whisper a thousand waves, I hear roar
 
 I'm coming home
 
 Dark is the horizon
 Blackened by the sun
 This rotten cage of Bridgetown
 Is where I now belong
 
 All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island
 
 All to hell, we must sail for the shores of sweet Barbados
 Where the sugar cane grows taller than the god we once believed in
 The butcher and his crown raped the land we used to sleep in
 Now tomorrow chimes of ghostly crimes that haunt Tobacco Island 
	
	
	 
	
		
		
	
	
  
	
			
	   	 
      
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