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Shankill Butchers - The Decemberists

Shankill Butchers

The Crane Wife
indie folk indie rock indie folk acoustic


The Decemberists' 2006 album The Crane Wife includes a song about the group, titled "Shankill Butchers", casting them as bogeymen that mothers tell their children about before bed to get them to behave. The "Shankill Butchers" were a group of UVF members involved in a large number of loyalist terrorist activities in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in the 1970s. The Butchers' chief notoriety came from late-night abduction, torture and cut-throat murders of random members of the Roman Catholic community, although they killed upwards of 30 people, including a significant number of Protestants, in sectarian attacks, paramilitary feuds, personal grudges and bombing raids.


There are two groups known to have released music under this name. (1). The Decemberists are a folk rock band which formed in 2000 in Portland, Oregon, United States. The band currently consists of Colin Meloy (vocals, guitar), Chris Funk (guitar, mandolin, dulcimer, pedal steel guitar), Jenny Conlee (organ, piano, accordion), Nate Query (electric bass, acoustic bass, cello) and John Moen (drums). Notable former members include Rachel Blumberg (drums, vocals) and Jesse Emerson (bass). Show more ...

Shankill Butchers - The Decemberists

The Shankill Butchers ride tonight
You better shut your windows tight
They re sharpening their cleavers and their knives
And taking all their whiskey by the pint

Cause everybody knows
If you don t mind your mother s words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers want to catch you awake

They used to be just like me and you
The used to be sweet little boys
But something went horribly askew
Now killing is their only source of joy

Cause everybody knows
If you don t mind your mother s words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers want to catch you awake

The Shankill Butchers on the rise
They re waiting til the dead of night
They re picking at their fingers with their knives
And wiping off their cleavers on their thighs

Cause everybody knows
If you don t mind your mother s words
A wicked wind will blow
Your ribbons from your curls
Everybody moan, everybody shake
The Shankill Butchers want to catch you
The Shankill Butchers want to cut you
The Shankill Butchers want to catch you awake



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