Rise, You Rowdy Truth-Tellers

[Verse 1]
There’s a man in a mirror-bright coat at the door
Says
“I’ll fatten your fields
Only sign here”
Smiles like a fox that’s found the hen floor
Keeps one clean hand
One hand in your beer
[Chorus]
Rise
You rowdy truth-tellers
Rise
Stamp that floor ‘til the floorboard cries (hey!)
Hold your coin
Hold your name
Guard your eyes
For the sweetest tongues belong to the boldest lies
Rise
You rowdy truth-tellers
Rise
[Verse 2]
He’ll weigh out your worth on a golden scale
Says
“Your neighbor’s the thief
I’m your shield”
Turns friend against friend with a campfire tale
While his boots leave tracks
Through your barley field
[Chorus]
[Bridge]
[whispered vocals] “It’s only a joke”
“It’s only a rule”
“It’s only a lock on the gate of your school”
[crescendo] One “only” more
And the door slams tight
So roar like a storm
Drag the hinges to light
[Chorus]

folk, Raucous pub-room Irish stomp, bodhrán and low floor toms driving a fierce 6/8 gallop. Fiddles saw rough double-stops, penny whistle cuts bright hooks between vocal lines. Female vocals, chesty and commanding, stacked gang shouts on the chorus, big room reverb like a packed hall roaring along. Brief fiddle break in the bridge before a final key-lift chorus with handclaps and stamping feet., irish folk