Padraic Pearse

Brian Warfield

In Dublin town in 1916 a flame of freedom did arise
A group of men with determination caught an empire by surprise
Through the streets our men were marching they rallied with their hopes and fears
And at the end a boy came searching for their leader Padraic Pearse

The poet and the Irish Rebel, a Gaelic scholar and a visionary
We gave to him no fighting tribute when Ireland´s at peace only that can be
When Ireland´s a nation united and free

On Easter morn he faced the nation from the steps of the GPO
And read aloud the proclamation the seed of nationhood to show
But soon the word had spread to London of an insurrection there at hand
And the deeds of Padraic Pearse was set about to free his land

For 5 long days the battle raged for 5 long nights the battle wore
We would watch Dublin City blaze and see our men fall to the floor
Now Ireland´s proud of her effort for her cause we fought with pride
But to save more life and to save our city, we make our peace with Mc Fainis (...)

Kilmainham Jail in 1916 they brought young Pearse to his death cell
And they tried him as a traitor to shoot this man who dared to rebel
He only tried to free his country of the shackles of 800 years
When dawn did break on that May morning they shot our Leader Padraic Pearse

 

Patriot Game, The

Dominic Behan

Come all you young rebels and list while I sing
For love of ones land is a terrible thing
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame
And makes us all part of the patriot game

My name is O'Hanlon, I'm just gone sixteen
My home is in Monaghan there I was weaned
I learned all my life cruel England to blame
And so I'm part of the patriot game

It's barely a year since I wandered away
With the local battalions of the bold IRA
I read of our heroes and wanted the same
To play up my part in the patriot game

They told me how Connolly was shot in a chair
His wounds from the fighting all bleeding and bare
His fine body twisted all battered and lame
They soon made me part of the patriot game

This Ireland of mine has for long been half-free
Six Counties are under John Bull's Monarchy
But still DeValera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the patriot game

I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police
They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace
And yet at deserters I'm never let aim
The rebels who sold out the patriot game

And now as I lie with my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold
I'm sorry my rifle has not done the same
For the Quislings who sold out the patriot game

 

People's Own M.P, The

Unknown

How many more must die now, how many must we lose
Before the island people their own destiny can choose?
From immortal Robert Emmet to Bobby Sands M.P
Who was given 30,000 votes while in captivity

No more he,ll hear the larks sweet notes upon the Ulster air
Or gaze upon the snowflake pure to calm his deep despair
Before he went on hungerstrike young Bobby did compose
The Rhythm of Time the Weeping Winds and the Sleeping Rose

He was a poet and a soldier, he died courageously
And we gave him 30,000 votes while in captivity.

Thomas Ashe gave everything in 1917
The lord mayor of Cork Mac Sweeney died his freedom to obtain
But never one of all our dead died more courageously
Than young Bobby Sands from Twinbrook, the people's own M.P

Forever we'll remember him that man who died in pain
That his country North and South might be united once again
To mourn him is to organise and built a movement strong
With ballot box and armalite, with music and with song

He was a poet and a soldier, he died courageously
And we gave him 30,000 votes while in captivity.

 

Provos Lullaby

Unknown

Chorus 

So go to sleep my weary Provo let the time go drifting by 
Can’t you hear the bullets humming that’s a Provo’s lullaby 
Well I know your clothes are worn and tattered 
And your hair it’s turning slightly grey 
Some day you’ll die and go to heaven 
You’ll find peace again some day 


Well i know,your Clothes are worn and tattered,
and your hair is turning slightly grey,
Someday youll die and go to heaven,
youll find peace again some day

Chorus

Well I know the peelers give you trouble 
Sure they cause trouble everywhere 
Some day you’ll die and go to heaven 
They’ll be no black bastards (RUC) over there 

Chorus


Peeler and the Goat, The

Unknown


O, the Bansha peeler went one night
On duty and patrolling
He spied a goat upon the road
And took him for a-strolling. 

Bayonet fixed, he sallied forth
And he caught him by the wizzen
There swore out a mighty oath
He's send him off to prison. 

Have mercy, sir, the goat replied
And let me tell my story
I am no rogue, no ribbon man
No cockey, Whig, or Tory. 

I'm innocent of any crime,
Of petty or high treason
For my tribe is active at this time
It is the mating season. 

"Do not complain," the peeler said
But give your tongue a bridle
You're absent from your dwelling place,
Disorderly, and idle. 

Your hoary locks will not prevail
Nor your sublime oration
For the penal laws will you transport
On your own information. 

No penal laws have I transgressed
By deed or combination
It's true I have no place of rest,
No home, or habitation. 

But Bansha is my dwelling place
Where I was bread and borne-o
I'm of an honest working race
That's all the trade I've learned-o. 

I wager, sir, that you are drunk
On whiskey, rum, and brandy
Or you wouldn't have such gallant spunk
To be so bold and manly. 

You readily would let me pass
If I had money handy
I'd take you to the parting glass
Its then I'd be the dandy

 

 

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