And I'm singing my song:

"My rifle's rusty, my sword is bent
My boots are wet with rain
And my moldy socks and my stinky drawers
Have driven folks from the plain.
But my spurs are as crossed as my horse's eyes
My whiskey's cheap or free
What care have I for your rules or laws
I'm an in-law, Rapparee
I'm an out-law, Rapparee!"