We often heard our fathers tell
How in the Fenian times
The noblest of Tipperary's sons
Imprisoned spent their lives.

Those tales we can hear daily,
And the deeds of valiant men,
As the war goes on unceasingly
Through valley, hill and glen.

They searched for Sean at midnight;
His comrade with him slept.
Macready's murdering bloodhounds
In silence on them crept.

Our heroes fought as brave men should
And made a gallant fight;
With bullet food they did conclude
The lives of Smith and White.

In a crowded Dublin Street Sean died
On a dim October day;
The story will be told with pride
While men in Eirinn stay.

With trusty gun held in his hand,
Two sleuth hounds he laid low:
'Twas well they knew this island through
They had no brave foe.

When the British saw the battle
They shook with fear and dread
A machine gun then did rattle
And our hero bold lay dead.

Sean Treacy killed! Sean Treacy killed!
Was borne along the breeze.
No bells were rung; no caoin was sung;
He died for Ireland free.

While grass grows green in Eirinn
We'll think of you, brave Sean!
We'll sing your praise o'er hill and vale
When grief and gloom are gone.

And when the dawn of Freedom's sun
Shines out in Eirinn's skies,
In our Gaelic tongue we'll tell our sons
How brave Sean Treacy died.

As I went home on Monday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door where my old horse should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door where my old horse should be?

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door where my old coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door where my old coat should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a woollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But buttons in a blanket sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Wednesday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe up on the chair where my old pipe should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed where my old boots should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
They're two lovely Geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But laces in Geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Saturday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts where my old hands should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them hands upon your breasts where my old hands should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing where my old thing should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing where my old thing should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before

The night was icy cold I stood along
I was waiting for an army foot patrol
And when at last they came into my site
I squeezed the trigger of my armalite

Chorus

Oh Mama, oh Mama comfort me
For I know these things have got to be
But when the war for freedom has been won
I promise you I'll put away my gun.

A shot rang out, I heard a soldier cry
"Oh please don't leave me here alone to die"
I realized his patrol had run away
And left their wounded comrade for me to slay.

"There's nothing in this world I would not do
If there's mercy in your heart you'll let me live"
And in his eyes I saw a look burning flame
As the mussel of my gun moved towards his brain.

The dawn was breaking as I reached my base
I will not forget the look on that boy's face
Fear, agony, and torment where all there
Oh but to your memory, mother, his life I spared

Well it was Sunday Bloody Sunday
When they shot the people down
The cries of 13 martyrs
Filled the Free Derry air
Is there anyone amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids

Sundy Bloody Sunday
Bloody Sunday´s the day!

You claim to be majority
Well you know that it´s a lie
You´re really a minority
On the sweet Emerald Isle
When Stormont bans our marches
They´ve got a lot to learn
Internment is no answer
It´s those mothers turn to burn

You Anglo pigs and Scotties
Sent to colonise the North
You wave your bloody Union Jacks
And you know what it´s worth
How dare you hold to ransom
A people proud and free
Keep Ireland for the Irish
Put the English back to sea

Yes it´s always bloody Sunday
In the concentration camps
Keep the Falls Road free forever
From the bloody English hands
Repatriate to Britain
All of you who call it home
Leave Ireland to the Irish
Not for London or for Rome

I can't believe the news today
Oh, I can't close my eyes
And make it go away
How long?
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?
'Cause tonight, we can be as one
Tonight

Broken bottles under children's feet
Bodies strewn across the dead end street
But I won't heed the battle call
It puts my back up
Puts my back up against the wall

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won
The trench is dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters
Torn apart

How long?
How long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?
'Cause tonight, we can be as one
Tonight, tonight

Wipe the tears from your eyes
Wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
Oh, wipe your tears away
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes
Sunday, Bloody Sunday

And it's true we are immune
When fact is fiction and TV reality
And today the millions cry
We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

The real battle just begun
To claim the victory Jesus won
On...

Skibbereen

unknown

O, Father dear, I ofttimes heard you talk of Erin's Isle,
Her valleys green, her lofty scene, her mountains rude and wild;
You said it was a pleasant place wherein a prince might dwell,
Why have you then forsaken her, the reason to me tell?

My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride
Until a blight fell on the land and sheep and cattle died,
The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem,
And that's the cruel reason why I left Old Skibbereen.

It's well I do remember on a bleak November's day,
The landlord and his agent came to drive us all away;
He set my house on fire with his demon yellow spleen
And that's another reason why I left Old Skibbereen.

Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground,
She fainted in her anguish of the desolation round.
She never rose, but went her way from life to death's long dream,
And found a quiet grave, my boy, in lovely Skibbereen.

It's well I do remember the year of forty-eight,
When we arose with Erin's boys to fight against our fate;
I was hunted through the mountains as a traitor to the Queen,
And that's another reason that I left Old Skibbereen.

Oh father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call
And we'll arise with Erin's boys and rally one and all,
I'll be tbe man to lead the van, beneath our flag of green,
And loud and high we'll raise the cry," Revenge for Skibbereen!"

The Soldier's Song 

Peadar Kearney

We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
As round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant a soldier's song. 

Chorus: 

Soldiers are we
whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come
from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free,
No more our ancient sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the gap of danger
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song. 

In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting race,
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march, the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song. 

Chorus 

Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The long watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Inisfail
Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See in the east a silv'ry glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song. 

Chorus