They build bombs and aim their pis
tols in the shadow of the cross
And they swear an oath of vengeance
to the martyrs they have lost
But they pray for peace on Sundays
with a rosary in each hand
It's long memories and short tempers
that have cursed poor Ireland
It's long memories and short tempers
that have cursed poor Ireland
We have cousins on the old sod
and we don't forget our kin
From Boston we send more guns and we
Then we turn back to our green beer
It's true friends with false perceptions
that have cursed poor Ireland
True friends with false perceptions
that have cursed poor Ireland
They weave tales of wit and magic and their
songs are strong and free
But they fail to hear each other,
Orange flags wave for the British
to greet the army's clicking heel
And Irish curse their Irish brother for
the altar where they kneel
And now provoked to greater
anger by the distant royal hand
It's old hatreds and young victims
that have cursed poor Ireland
Old hatreds and young victims that
So we're left with retribution
it's the cycle of the damned
And the hope becomes more distant
as the flames of hate are fanned
Who will listen to the children for they're
taught to take their stand
They say love and true forgiveness
can still heal fair Ireland
They say love and true for
giveness can still heal fair Ireland
