A man of brawn and beer in a Staten Island bar Said with a voice so clear Fill up me fuckin jar! But it was to be his last for he'd pay now for his past James McBratney from the kitchen was to go out with a blast Though out numbered 3 to 1 he'd let no greaser have it said That a Westie from Hells Kitchen let John Gotti have his head When told "We've come to arrest you" McBratney knew for sure With one arm he put the three assassins sprawled across the floor Though he bravely stood his ground his life he still would lose Like so many from the Kitchen he knew brawling and knew booze From choir boys to men, with the strength and guts of ten They were feared through out Manhattan where they met their bloody end Since the days of Paddy Duggan the Westside knew no rest Studs McElroy and Featherstone were those who ran the west With alcoholic guts and wild narcotic nuts Jimmy Coonan soon was rulin a Hells Kitchen full of fucks Now on the other side of town big Paul was soon concerned When he learned of these wild men and the hell in which they burned With McBratneys guts in mind no solution could he find Castellano called for Coonan for to put the past behind Now these days are now since gone and these boys died by the gun Like the Clantons and McLowerys when a different West was won No never no more is what the coppers swore But one day it may get hotter than it ever was before
