Listen to some of the songs

A posting about Joe Mulheron

A posting about Brian Moore [‘Cormac’]

This is a work-in-progress. We are collecting the songs, and we are correcting the versions.

THE SONGS OF

THE PEOPLE OF NO PROPERTY

INDEX

1. Bloody Sunday

2. Lid of My Granny's Bin

3. England’s Vietnam

4. Bernadette

5. Leaving Belfast Town

6. Man’s Life in the Army

7. North Polegass Explorers

8. Foxes Corner

9. Brian O'Lynn – Parts I & II

10. Frank Stagg

11. Wee White Turban

12. Rinty Monaghan

13. Farewell to Newry Courthouse

14. The Connolly Column

15. 2001 Carnhill

17. Creggan White Hare

18. Derry Dole Song

19. Frank Kelly

20. Burntollet March

21. Hughes Bakery Van

22. Bogside Doodle Bug

23. Bogside Man

24. Carrick Hill

25. Ballymurphy

26. Jack Lynch

27. The Brandywell

28. Troops Out

29. Home You Go

30. Angry Brigade

31. Battle of Springtown Camp

32. Blanket Men

33. Home Soldier Home

34. Joe McCann

35. Falls Road Taxi Man

36. Jesse and Jesus

37. Twoomey’s Escape

39. Back to Palestine

40. Rubber Bullets

41. Internee

42. Paddy Reilly

43. Have You Got a Penny, Mister

44. Cormac MacIlvogue

45. If They Come in the Morning.

46. Broad River Banks of the Foyle

47. Walk in the Shadow

48. Phantom Falls Road Taxi Man

49. The Island Men

50. Peadar O'Donnell

51. Ned Kelly

52. Croppies Who Wouldn't Lie Down

53. Markets Raid

54. Shopping Trolley

55. Sean McBride

56. Wild Colonial Boy

57. Free State Adjudicator

58. Long Glen Illies Queen

59. Sean Hogan

60. West Link Blues

61. Multi-Storey Story

62. Tuten Carson’s Tomb

63. Sergeant Death, Sister Love

64. Rose and the Nightingale

65. Joseph Locke

66. Cahir O'Doherty

67. Gerry the Bird

68. Bold Donnelly

69. Scariff Michael

70. Danny O'Hagan

71. Crossmaglen

72. Princess Anne

_______________

Song No. 1

BLOODY SUNDAY

"We demand Civil Rights", well the marchers did say,

Five thousand people assembled that day,

From Free Derry Corner set out with a cheer,

The march it was peaceful, there was nothin' to fear.

But the paratroop regiment came down the street,

Five hundred men, all over six feet.

They carried machine guns and big SLRs,

Coming down William Street in their Saracen cars.

Well, the orders were given in Whitehall, we know,

"Open fire, kill a few, draw them out, have a go."

No fire was returned as the world knows today,

Thirteen innocent men with their lives had to pay.

At Free Derry Corner the slaughter began,

Some people fell and some people ran.

Our Civil Rights banner was stained bloody red,

At the barricade there, they shot three people dead.

Well the wounded lie bleeding, a doctor is called,

The firing continues and another two fall;

The harvest they reaped with their bullets of lead,

Bloody Sunday in Derry, and thirteen men dead.

Their tribunal mockery was soon carried out;

"Just doing their duty, well, there is no doubt."

On England's proud history, a crime added yet;

How can we forgive them, how can we forget?

Song No. 2

THE LID OF ME GRANNY'S BIN

As I was climbing into bed, my poor old granny sighed

I looked out of the window, the Army had arrived

The house was soon surrounded, they smashed the front door in

I knew they'd come to take away the lid of my granny's bin

CHORUS

Well, it was scream, bang, shout, raise an awful din

We've got to spread a warning when the army they come in

She opened up the window and she clambered down the spout

Soon her bin was rattlin' for to call the neighbours out

She then took out her whistle and blew away like hell

And soon we heard an echo as the neighbours blew as well

A soldier came right up the stairs, a rifle in his hand

She kicked him with her buttom boots, along the hall she ran

Up and stepped another one, some medal for to win

But all he got, right up the gob, was the lid of my granny's bin

The music rose like thunder, as the bins and whistles played

The army soon retreated, they knew they'd overstayed

It wasn't made of silver, it was only made of tin

But once again it saved us all, the lid of my granny's bin

Come all kind friends, and go to bed and sleep as best you can

But if there's trouble come along, go out and give a hand

To all you fair young ladies, if trouble does begin

Run out into your backyard, love, and rattle away your bin.

Song No. 3

ENGLAND'S VIETNAM

Well, good evening friends, it's good to be back

in the good old U.S.A.

Where they make damn sure to keep all their wars

thousands of miles away

For I've just been across the ocean,

to see my family home,

And after what I saw there,

I never more will roam

CHORUS

Well give me a home where the Panthers roam,

and the Weathermen so free

Take a walk in the dark around the Central Park,

it does not bother me

Tear the country in two, but whatever you do,

I'll stay right where I am

For I do not want another trip

to England's Vietnam.

We arrived at Aldergrove,

that's where the planes do go

It used to be Nutt's Corner,

why they changed it I just don't know

I was wearing an army jacket,

from Vietnam it came,

When a soldier stuck a gun in my ribs

and says, "I know your game."

"Oh where is your black beret", he cried,

"And your hurley stick as well?"

I hit him with my camera,

and like a stone he fell.

I sent for a policeman

to take this poor man away

Saying, "This would never happen

in the good U.S.A."

The policeman grabbed me by the arm, saying,

"Come along with me,

For I can tell by the gleam in your eye

that you hate democracy.

You're a Trotskyist from the Kremlin,

you're a Vatican anarchist spy,

A communist from China,

a commie from the F.B.I."

Well, you know I had to leave there,

I'll tell you what I done

I slipped five dollars in his hand

and began to run.

I walk the streets of Belfast

from the New Lodge to the Falls,

Watching the rubber bullets

goin' a bouncing off the walls.

Song No. 4

BERNADETTE

Up in the Armagh Prison

Where they the women

Young Devlin lies

In a prison cell

CHORUS

And for the Bogside people

There'll be no sleeping

Until young Devlin

Has been set free

Ah, the oul' Judge framed her

As they tried to shame her

But the world's acclaimed her

For all she's done

Ah, did you seen them running

From our petrol bombing?

Sure they ran like rats,

Instead of men.

For defending Bogside

That was why she was tried

She forced the policemen

All to fly

Ah, the day is coming

When we'll all stop running

And Connolly's cause

Will call again

FINAL CHORUS

The the Irish People

Will wake from sleeping

And we'll set our country

All free again.

Song No. 5

LEAVING BELFAST TOWN

I lived my life in Belfast town, and oft times I've asked why

That evil men and orders were allowed to bleed us dry

I was born in a dirty tenement in a district falling down

And I tell you, John, it won't be long till I leave Belfast town.

Belfast's a northern city where decent men are few

Where drums and flags have hid the eyes of working men, it's true

Where democracy means hypocrisy, and corruption does abound

Oh, I tell you John, it won't be long till I leave Belfast town.

Oh now tell me John, you've been and gone all round this world to

see,

And have you found a country where a poor man might be free?

Where there are no greedy landlords, or forces of the crown,

Oh tell me John and I'll be gone far from old Belfast town.

They have filled the minds with prison, and I fear it is too late,

To wash those walls for ever of the words that speak of hate.

All freedom has been banished and honest men put down,

And I tell you John, it won't be long till I leave Belfast town.

There's barricades and burning now, and soldiers walk the street

There's C.S. gas from England that the hungry kids can eat

Our town's an old sand castle, and the waves begin to pound

And I tell you John, it won't be long till I leave Belfast town.

I've watched our sons and daughters, I've seen them growing strong

They'll not leave like their fathers did and who's to say they're

wrong

The barbed wire and the bullets can't forever keep us down

And I tell you John, this is our home, we'll stay in Belfast town

Song No. 6

A MAN'S LIFE IN THE ARMY

When I was five my mother died,

At twelve I left my home,

At eighteen years I took the shilling,

My career had begun,

For fifteen years I've sloffed on foot,

A soldier of the crown,

Now I curse the unemployment

Made me leave old Belfast town.

As a soldier of foot brigade,

I've been to foreign parts,

I've seen the sun rise in the East,

Broke many a girlie's heart,

I've left them in the streets to mourn,

While I marched off to play,

My part in keeping riots down

At two pound ten a day.

I'd a mate was killed in Germany in 1965

It's a man's life in the Army

For those that stay alive,

He was crushed below a lorry

As he staggered down the street,

Cheap drink was never mentioned

On the Army report sheet.

They've used me as a blackleg

When the dockers go on strike;

Sometimes I think desertion

Should be a squaddy's right.

The sergeant says it's Bolshie now,

To dream of civvy life,

So they've sent me back to Belfast town

To teach me wrong from right.

It's a right to be a soldier in the military role,

But it's wrong to be a civvy 'cause you

Might be on the dole,

And it's right to earn your living

As a soldier of the crown,

To be unemployed since leaving school

Is wrong in Belfast town.

So I think of the Queen of England

And I'm glad that I'm employed

Pumping CS gas at children

Till their parents get annoyed,

I'm glad I joined the Army now,

To teach me wrong from right,

To hell with your unemployment now,

Like me you'll have to fight.

Song No. 7

NORTH POLE-GLASS EXPLORERS

Born in the middle of Belfast,

a red brick house in an old cobble street,

Two bedrooms, a kitchen and parlour,

the job box our bathroom-en-suite.

In charge of housing, the Belfast corporation,

Al Capone would have shook in his shoes,

The sold Public housing in Belfast,

had high stools, a lounge bar and sold booze.

So they sent for the planners and the architects,

grand houses for us they would make

Once they sent us to hell or to Connaught,

now Turf Lodge or Ballymurphy estate.

When the people said no to these nightmares

and demanded that they be pulled down,

They turned us into long distance explorers,

to the North-Pole Glass and Twinbrook we're bound.

The Hammar and the Half Bap have vanished,

Carrick Hill and pound lonley have gone,

The exporers will soon come in search of us,

like the tribes at the lost Amazon.

But now I'am going back where I came from,

to no more foreign parts will I roam,

For trying to get tick at a mobile,

is like trying to get blood from a stone.

But now they've built a big motorway,

right where our streets used to be,

Tell me friends, did they ask your permission?

They sure as hell didn't ask me.

When the people take over in Belfast

and the planners are tried for war crimes,

There'll be justice and jobs and good neighbours

and we'll say forever farewell to hard times.

Song No. 8

FOXES CORNER

Up at the back of Walker's Square

25,000 gathered there

Down the Bankin' made a tear

At the battle of Foxes Corner

CHORUS

Holy Moses what a crew

Some of them black and some of them blue

Some of them fought and some of them flew

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Up at the back of McKeowns Lane

Rose and Danny were at it again

All over a wine they stole from a weun

At the battle of Foxes Corner

As I came walking down the Strand

Who should I meet but Cassie Ann

She was fighting a Fawn Street Man

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Then who should I meet but Maggie McKay

Eating a steak and kidney pie

She was there but she didn't die

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Who was there but Sergeant McKnight

The sun in his eye was shining bright

He was hit on the head (went out like a light)

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Inspector McGimpsey the dirty rip

Waving about a hawthorn stick

He was hit on the head with a big red brick

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Come now lads and raise your hats

Here's to the lads on top of the flats

Down Rossville Street they drove the cops

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Scalper Doherty in the van

Says he, "Line up here every man"

Says I, "We'd rather follow McCann"

At the battle of Foxes Corner

The B-Men, all true William's sons,

Came marching up with tommy guns

We beat them back with German buns

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Our bold commander Paddy Barr

Led the Boys in a stolen car

On his way to a gig at the Dunloe Bar

At the battle of Foxes Corner

Now to end my song with thanks

We'll not forget the bloody Yanks

We had stones but they had tanks

At the Battle of Foxes Corner

Foxes Corner is knocked down

In the flats in the market the people are found

They put up a fight to the very last round

At the battle of Foxes Corner.

Song No. 9

BRIAN O'LYNN PARTS I & II

The Tories in London his job they had stole

Brian O'Lynn he signed on at the dole

The rich getting fatter and I'm getting thin

We'll have to do something says Brian O'Lynn

Brian O'Lynn gave much thought to the matter

He decided that he would become a bank robber

He got an old mask and a gun to begin

They'll think I'm Dick Turpin says Brian O'Lynn

Says Brian O'Lynn to the wife by this time tomorrow

We'll be knocking over that wee bank away down in Shantallow

A suit of armour he made from a neighbour's dustbin

They'll think I'm Ned Kelly says Brian O'Lynn

Brian O'Lynn's wife stole a four door Cortina

Doing ninety up William Street you should have saw her

A gun sticking out and the wind howling in

Its Bonnie and Clyde now says Brian O'Lynn

Brian O'Lynn and the wife and wife's mother

They all stormed into that wee bank together

They bought an oul' Dunnes bag to put the dough in

They'll think that we are shopping says Brian O'Lynn

The mother-in-law to the manager says, "Lister, honey

I've sawed the barrels of my shotgun so hand up the money"

The alarm bell went and it made such a din

I think we're surrounded says Brian O'Lynn

Forty SAS men at the front door and none of them rookies

Says he this is harder than doing Duffy's bookies

We'll kick the manager out through the front door to fire we'll begin

Make a dash for Buncrana says Brian O'Lynn

Well now they're in Buncrana the Lake of Shadows lounge bar

With a Bank of Ireland crisp fiver he lights a cigar

Bad luck to the Tories who made him begin

That life of an outlaw, bold Brian O'Lynn

PART II

BRIAN O'LYNN – PART II

Its two long years later, and they're still on the run

Playing bingo in Buncrana, boys, isn't much fun

The odds are against us, says he with a grin

One more job for old times now says Brian O'Lynn

There is a wee bank down the village of Muff

With punts and with sterling its packed with the stuff

The Derry solicitors' slush fund is held there within

We'll get some legal aid now Brian O'Lynn

They hit a wee Stick dump but the guns were rusty

With three-in-one oil sure they came up right lovely

With a wee balyclava tucked under my chin

They'll think its an ad for Frys chocolate says Brian O'Lynn

But the Branch men from Dublin were up on an outing

Looking for poor folk to torture and boys to go touting

A wee job of their own they were about to begin

We got here just in time now says Brian O'Lynn

The Branch men shot the manager then shot the teller

While Brian was counting the punts in the vault in the cellar

On her wee walkie-talkie the mother-in-law she came in

Put dum-dums in the sawed-off says Brian O'Lynn

Showering shells from her shotgun the mother-in-law she did say

"Hands up ye jackeens or I'll blow yis away"

She made every boyo there strip to the skin

McGlinchy till her own name says Brian O'Lynn

PART III.

BRIAN O'LYNN – PART III

But they were betrayed by a foul supergrass

The Branch men in ambush lay on Glenshane Pass

They machine-gunned the motor, poor Brian they did kill

The mother-in-law escaped into the Sperrins _ like Jaws out there still

Brian he woke up with a scream and a yell

The devil beside him and he down in Hell

Says the devil to Brian "You're a dacent oul' skin

Put your feet up to the fire now, bold Brian O'Lynn"

"This place you call Hell is confusing to me.

Where's all the policemen, the soldiers, the SDLP?"

"Sure its straight up to heaven they all were consigned

When the Anglo Irish Agreement was signed."

Brian went into the bar where he met young Dan Breen

Who enquired after the health of oul' Erin the green

Says Dan now the crack down here is fierce

There's Connolly and Larkin playing poker still waiting on Pearse

Ann Devlin came in with a bucket and washed up the floor

Emmett read that big speech and shot through heaven's door

I done me time in that Kilmainham cell

I never said nothing, I'm still down in Hell

Gerry the bird Doherty sitting warming his feet

The Brandywell district heating scheme gave out more heat

That big grey felt hat, he pulled down by the brim

Time we shot our way back to freedom with Brian O'Lynn

Durrutti, Zapata and Makhno were there

Now at shooting informers well they'd done their share

They pulled up their bandanas saying "Count us three in"

"They'll think you're from Strabane now" says Brian O'Lynn

From her dug out in the Sperrins the mother-in-law radioed down

"I've tracked the informer to a pub in Capetown"

She hijacked an oil rig, to drill did begin

"They'll think you're digging for spuds now" says Brian O'Lynn

They came to earth's surface up inside the Grainan

The red branch knights and Cuhulan still drilling and training

Cuhulan looked at the mother-in-law, she looked at him

He thinks you're Queen Maeve now says Brian O'Lynn

At Eglinton Airport they hijacked an aircraft

"We'll take us to Capetown" says Brian with a laugh

With his goggles pulled down and his white scarf tucked in

"They'll think that I'm Biggles" says Brian O'Lynn

"The first thing we'll do is free Nelson Mandela

When you're talking of freedom he's my sorta fella"

Le Clerc he saluted as their plane taxied in

"He thinks I'm Willie John McBride" says Brian O'Lynn

At the bar, the informer and his minders were there

Names were being named and loose talk filled the air

The explosion went off they did not feel a thing

"They thought it was marizipipan" says Brian O'Lynn

"Now we're exiles from Erin but still boys we're happy

In Zimbabwe with President Mugabe in Harari

Now the mother-in-laws taking up the set dancing to recruit did begin

"We'll be back with an international brigade" says Brian O'Lynn

Song No. 10

FRANK STAGG

In Coventry in '73 they charged him with conspiracy

To lead a small guerilla band in war to free his native land

Frank Stagg lay in a prison

Frank Stagg died in a English jail

Frank Stagg starved for you and me

Friend, tell me, did he fail?

A prisoner of war he was, repatriation made his cause

Alone confined in a prison cell, the screws made life a living hell

Four hunger strikes in three long years fell deaf on

politicans' ears

On they struggled, hard they tried, but on hunger strike young

Gaugin died

In the campaign to bring Frank home, working people fought alone

Derry's Bishop Daly said OK, then changed his mind the very

next day

As sure as if with gun or knife, Roy Jenkins ended Frank

Stagg's life

He could have sent our young man home, let him die on hunger

strike alone

But the final insult was to come when they brought Frank

Stagg's body home

In life he suffered for us all, in death they feared him

most of all

The Free State blueshirt Cosgrave said, no martyr's funeral

when he's dead

Though Special Branch men dug his grave, Frank Stagg now

sleeps with the brave

Another step down freedom's path, Frank bought us with his

epitaph

Peace with justice his request, the war must end with

nothing less.

Song No. 11

THE WEE WHITE TURBAN

'Twas a bundle that was hanging in what's known as father's tent,

A bundle of striped material black and red,

And when I asked me mother now just what it did contain,

"It's your father's bedouin uniform," she said.

And as I put the kaftan on, she was smiling through the veil,

As she wrapped the wee white turban round me head.

Its just a wee white turban he wrapped around his head

Forty yards of good material there and more

An old kaftan that he stold in Marrakesh,

A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corps.

An old curved sword in its sheath of camel hide,

A wavy dagger he used against the foe.

When it comes to blood and snatters, sure the man that really matters,

Must wear the wee white turban of the P.L.O.

'Twas the turban that me father wore, in the desert long ago,

When he left me mother's harem on the run.

'Twas the turban that he wore when he stood by Nasser's side,

When he put the British army on the run.

The Brits were sending aeroplanes and SAS men by the score,

The Suez canal was theirs they said

Your Da swam to the tanker

Lit the gelignite and sank her

And claimed the canal for Egypt then instead.

It was two mile from Damascus when he made the final stand,

Surrounded by his enemies ten to one

As he lay in the sun there baking the knew there'd be no

prisoners taken

And the ammo for the AK almost done

From Knock Airport to refuel came in slow

Your Da hijacked the Boeing, says he to West Belfast were going

To wear the wee white turban of the P.L.O.

Song No. 12

RINTY MONAGHAN

Come all you gallant Irishmen and listen to my song

It's all about a fighting man, I won't detain you long

His name was Rinty Monaghan, he came from Sailor Town

And back in 1940, he won the lightweight crown.

I've watched them fight with left and right, each man as

hard as steel

I've saw them fight for coppers down in the chapel fields

There was fightin' Johnny Bashum and Bomber Bill Brown

But most of all I do recall the lad from sailor town.

'Twas down in Bosco's boxing club he learned the fighting trade

To hold his fists up like a man and never be afraid

Then came the night we'd waited for, down in the Ulster Hall

He defeated Bunty Doran, the toughest of them all.

He then set out for London Town, his fortune to seek there

He challenged England's champion to fight him if he dare

The gambling men all laughed and mocked, they laid him four to one

But there weren't so many laughing when the fighting it was done.

Then he challenged Maurice Sanderson to fight him for the crown

But he caught young Rinty in the third and laid him on the ground

The blood was flowing from his eye and tricklin' from his nose

And the referee had counted nine before young Rinty rose.

He danced his way from danger with punches strong and fast

And soon we all were wondering how Sanderson could last

Then Rinty threw a mighty blow, a shot fired from a gun

And the Paddies they were cheering for the battle had been won

Three times he fought the title and three times young Rinty won

And "Irish eyes are smiling" was the song young Rinty sung

He retired undefeated and he never lost the crown

We'll remember Rinty Monaghan the lad from Sailor Town.

Song No. 13

FAREWELL TO NEWRY COURTHOUSE

In Newry town, the tenth of March, in 1975

A prison van from Long Kesh camp it duly did arrive

It brough twelve prisoners to the court that morning to be tried

Each man was handcuffed to a screw as they were led inside

The twelve were I.R.A. men and now prisoners of war

Found guilty as republicans in the special courts before

The men who burned the cages of their concentration camp

And dug that famous tunnel in their escape attempt

In a cell below the courthouse they waited on Judge Brown

John James Quigley from the New Lodge Road, Hugh Clarke from

Andy Town

Your Marley and McMahon, Pat Braniff there as well

While Fitz from Ballymurphy checked the windows of the cell

Eugene Fanning came and gave a hand, says he it's not much use

But then his eyes shone with surprise, he felt the bars work loose

McCarry and McGuigan pulled until the bars gave way

Young Fearon who lived in the town went first to lead the way

The fence was twenty foot high with barbed wire all along

Undetected they went over and down the road were gone

Two cars were quickly borrowed, to the border made their way

Farewell to Newry Courthouse I heard those young men say

Song No. 14

THE CONNOLLY COLUMN

Who will call the meetings now, and who will take the chair

Who will lead us out on strike, demand an equal share

For Johnny, Brave Young Johnny, in Ireland won't remain

He's gone to fight the fascists in the civil war in Spain.

With men from many countries you fought to save Madrid

No one knows just how you held, the world all know you did

The people armed with sticks and stones, against the tanks

they came

And drove back Franco's army from the city once again.

Hitler sent the bombers in, Mussolini sent big guns

The Bishops sent dire warnings on our daughters and our sons

For they fought to make us equal, take back the rich man's gain

And they died in muddy trenches in the civil war in Spain.

You fought well at Cordoba likewise at Teruel

In the valley at Jarama they blew you all to hell

When you crossed the Ebro river your blood the vines did stain

Ireland lost her fighting men in the civil war in Spain

McCrotty Derry City, Danny Boyle from Belfast Town

Dinny Cody from South Dublin he fell on Spanish ground

Kit Conway, Tipperary Charlie Donnolly from Tyrone

Frank Ryan taken prisoner he never would come home.

And if fascist bullets won't permit our wild geese to come home

Their heavy loss in this country we'll never cease to mourn

They fought for the Connolly Column in the brave 15th brigade

And died for Spanish workers in the civil war in Spain.

Song No. 15

2001 CARNHILL

The house that I lived in Derry was built

before the walls I believe

Ten to a room it was crowded

and the nearest running water was the Foyle I believe

The cowboys in the old corporation,

Duffy's circus would have give them a job

Sure I had more chance of winning the pools

than getting a house from that mob

Then along came the Housing Executive,

an upstanding body of men

They swore they were going to rehouse me,

but of course now they did'nt say when

For three years and four years I waited,

fought me way to the top of the queue

More points to me name than United,

the year they went for the double it's true

But word came of my new house one morning,

me heart in my bosom did swell

2001 Carnhill the address,

they sent a map and a compass as well

The wee palace they finally had found me,

was out on the outskirts of town

The bus driver asked me for me passport,

the fare was a couple of pound

But me new house it is a wee cracker,

a whirlybird clothes line and a garden whatsmore

The walls are made of stone cardboard, of

egg boxes they made the front door

I finally ventured out shopping,

I wandered for many the mile

I stood for two days at the stop,

all the time trying to keep up a brave smile

So come all you gallant young planners,

think for a while, hesitate

For it's oul' mugs like me and the women next door,

live in the cartoons you create.

Song No. 16

TIPPIN' IT UP TO NANCY

There was a young woman in Derry she lived in Brandywell

Her husband out on the batter, he used to give her hell

CHORUS

With my right fineganerio right fingawall

Right fineganerio, We're tipping it up to Nancy

She went round to Great James Street a doctor for to find

"Doctor give me something for I'm going out of me mind"

He gave her a bucket of tablets, roaches one to ten

Says he, "A holiday out in Hawaii and you'll not feel so bad then"

She went to see the Parish Priest, says he, "Get down on your knees

The husband is the head of the family, so no more oul' nonsense please"

She searched the pubs in Waterloo Street, She found the one he was in

Says she, "Good luck with the kids and dog, I'm going to do myself in"

"Now don't jump off Craigavon Bridge, you know you might be seen

With the scandal I could loose me place as captain of the quiz team"

"I think I'll go and drown myself, go up to the Reservoir"

Says he, "Come round to Rossville Street and we'll hire a peoples car"

When they got to the water's edge he went to push her in

She bent down to buckle her shoe and he went tumblin' in

"Throw a lifebelt in you fool, I'm drowning" he did say

Says she, "The weans from the Creggan, love, have stolen it away"

Now the dart team's lost its captain, there's another woman free

There another Casanova who won't be home for his tea

Song No. 17

CREGGAN WHITE HARE

Through the green fields of Creggan, there runs a white hare

She's as swift as the swallow that flies through the air

You may search this world over, there's none can compare

With the pride of high Creggan, the bonnie white hare

On one fine summer morning as you may suppose

As the bright yellow sun o'er the green fields arose

The B Specials assembled and each one did swear

They would hunt down and murder the bonnie white hare

They searched Sheriff's Mountain and down through the Glen

All along Lowry's Lane where the hare had her den

Up around by Glenowen, the reservoir there

When from behind a big bushel, up popped the white hare

Well, bang went their guns and their dogs they let go

The white hare started running, she put up a fine show

Their dogs soon came back, the B-men all sighed

T'was a sign that the white hare had bade them good-bye

Then some middle-class students came up from Belfast

With their thousand pound shotguns all made for the task

Their pedigree dogs they'd brought from afar

Sure they landed in Creggan in a big Volvo car

They came down Lowry's Lane all determined to kill

The white hare they flushed out on Holywell hill

She ran their dogs ragged, left them black and blue

For the Creggan white hare voted for Sinn Fein too

And now to conclude and finish me song

I hope I've said nothing that has been too wrong

When next you're in Derry come in for a jar

Drink a health to the Creggan and the bonnie white hare.

Song No. 18

DERRY DOLE SONG

I worked on the building site, worked on the tools

The lads that I worked with, were no bloody fools

But I was paid off with no bonus or wealth

And down to the dole queue surrendered myself

I read the big notice that advertised jobs

No mortal men wanted just heroes and gods

Brain surgeons, balloonists, aye post there to fill

But the clerk said I lacked education and skill

So I packed up a lunch box, me green dungarees

To the training centre at Springtown I went if you please

They taught me to weld there and skills of all kind

Still no bloody job in this town could I find

I went to see Rupert down in the Strand Tech

Every course there on offer, I soon did attack

O and A levels, I passed H.N.C.

Even motor car maintenance no problem to me

The next place I went it was up to Magee

To see if the Professors could educate me

I read all the books, they said I'd go far

If I bought the next round down in Andy Cole's Bar

I bought me Hibernia I told to the train

Away with the scholars all off to Coleraine

Like a big factory ship they soon processed me

Unemployed back to Derry with me first class degree

When next on the dole queue see if you can find

Unemployed politicans or clergymen sign

An unemployed banker or a boss I've not seen

I think we're being conned, lads, you know what I mean

Song No. 19

FRANK KELLY

I wandered up to Miltown 'mong the lonely and the brave

A list of this years fleadh ceoils put on Frank Kelly's grave

Into Roddens in Buncrana, Mateemos sweet Boyle town

Wherever there's a session Frank Kelly will be found

The fleadh ceoil down in Ennis Town in 1969

My head was all bedazzled with the music and with the wine

Up the mainstreet as I stumbled sure I could hardly stand

When out and stepped Frank Kelly and took me by the hand

Rucksack on your shoulder baking soda for the pain

Like Ned Kelly in Austrailia, Frank Kelly he was game

White hair to your shoulder you looked like Buffalo Bill

When the rest of us were flaking, Frank, you were raking still

Back in sunny Belfast in Kelly's Cellars Bar

The young girls they would all call out Frank come out have a jar

Dave Scott singing in the corner he's kicking up a fuss

Frank turns to wee Eddie saying, "Alright he's one of us

Strangers they would stop and stare at this strange attired old man

Kelly in good company he wouldn't give a damm

With the Bin and Angie Connolly, Moore and Fra playing their gutter

McCollum growing restless saying lets try another bar

I walked in that procession when he took you Miltown

And we tried to put Frank Kelly in a coffin underground

Might as well have tried to bury the spirit of freedom or such like

A whisper from the coffin said, "Joe kid, on your bike"

Song No. 20

BURNTOLLET MARCH

Come all who fight for liberty

And hear me tell my tale

Think on the first January

In dear old Granuailly

Resolved to march to Derry

We left old Belfast town

Burntollet we'll remember

Where they tried to club us down

The gentry organized thugs

To halt the march at Antrim

Advised by Major Bunting

The Orange poet pilgrim

As darkness fell more hostile groups

Came from the country manse

With black thorn sticks and cudgels

Honi soit qui mal y pense

We slept that night at Whitehall

Wakened by a bomb scare

The second day of January

To Toome we did repair

But Randalstown proved difficult

Harassed along the way

Chichester Clarke and Robin

Came out to see fair play

BUT FREEDOM SHINES BEFORE US LADS

WE'LL SEEK IT DAY BY DAY

AND IF WE STRIVE AND PERSEVERE

SHE'LL MEET US HALF THE WAY

We cheered on at Calladuff

And heard with great dismay

That Orangemen at Maghera

Had cudgels on display

'Twas council given by the cops

Those men of great renown

So in Brackaghreilly Hall

The night we slept, outside the town

The bleak Glenshane we crossed over

Farrell took command

Dungiven town was cordoned off

The police bid us to stand

We formed in ranks with arms linked

The cordon broke in twain

To Feeney marched victorious

Our ranks we did maintain

We slept that night at Claudy

Sixty miles from Belfast

Abused and harassed every mile

We suffered for our protest

Non-violence our slogan

One family, one house

One man, one job, one man, one vote

Repeal repressive laws

THEN COURAGE BOYS, THE DAY WILL COME

TO SOOTHE OUR TOIL AND PAIN

WE'LL LIFT NO HAND OR WEAPON

THEIR ANGER TO INFLAME

January Forth, Paisley, Paisley was the cry

Burntollet we had reached

Bricks and bottles from the sky

Get the bastards, Fenian whores

Club the students down

Make sure their skull are cracked

Before they reach Derry town.

With long spiked clubs beat their legs

Throw then in the river

Drag them over broken glass

For Paisley, our deliverer

Save the police, help them run

Get them to their tenders

Iron bars, clubs and bottles

Christ, they won't defend us

Spencer Road in Derry

We've made it with our blood

More bricks and bottles, from the crown

Came from the friends of God

Over the Craigavon Bridge

And into Guildhall Square

The downfall of the police

Began in Derry's city fair

SO JOIN WITH HEAD

WITH HEART AND HAND

AND DRIVE DESPAIR AWAY

BETTER TIMES ARE COMING, FRIENDS

WE'LL MARCH AND WIN THE DAY

Song No. 21

HUGHES BAKERY VAN

I remember the times not too long in the past

When it was easier to get a gun than a drink in Belfast

When the B-Specials came and the people all ran

Sure my life it was saved by the oul' bakery van

CHORUS

IT WAS HUGHES

AYE BARNEY HUGHES

AH! GOD REST BARNEY HUGHES

AND HIS OUL' BAKERY VAN

The day it was passing down by Dover Street

When the victory of Bogside was turned bitter sweet

They came from the Shankill and fired as they ran

But the bullets just bounced off my oul' bakery van

Our armoured division it was led by McKee

In charge of an oul' bakery van and an oul' J.C.B.

But if Rommel had seen him he'd have turned up and smiled

Firing baps by the dozen, cement by the pile

Then mounted machine guns on turret cars came

Bullets three inches whistled down like the rain

And the oul' bakery van it was pierced front and back

But the baps in the van they repelled the attack

You'll hear variations and most of them lies

The people of the Falls Road were took by surprise

So we fired Hughes' baps and we fired Hughes' rolls

And we buried those Specials all down the manholes

Come all of you women take warning by me

Don't go buying your pan loaf or Hovis for free

But stand on the corner and wait on the man

He'll be around sure as God in his oul' bakery van.

Song No. 22

THE BOGSIDE DOODLE BUG

They came down the Bann in war ships

Sailing out from Belfast town

The RUC and Specials, to put the riots down

They flattened out like lemons

And the ground they had to hug

When there came a loud exposion

From the Bogside Doodle Bug

CHORUS

RUN BACK, RUN BACK

WE'RE UNDER FIERCE ATTACK

"HOIST THE WHITE FLAG, WILLIAM"

THE SERGEANT SADLY CRIED

IT WAS THE BOGSIDE DOODLE BUG

THE POOR MAN HE HAD SPIED

Now this missile of the people

Was invented by a man

Unemployed for fourteen years

When his good work he began

Says he, "It's no use begging

And for work we'll have to fight

So I'll invent a weapon that will

Make the peelers shiSong No. Song No. "

Now the doodle bug's a weapon

Quite easy for to make

Just get yourself some petrol

And soap powder and some paint

It's the pride of the Bogside warrior

The fear of the man in blue

For when it hits the armoured car

It sticks to the side like glue

Now the peelers used their batons

And the Specials used their guns

They came roaring through the Bogside

Like the bloody German Huns

They all ran back like cowards

For they knew what lay in fate

When the music of the Doodle Bug

Was heard at Butcher's Gate

Now to conclude this truthful store

Look up to the sky at night

You'll see an object passing by

Going at the speed of light

Its not a Lunar Module or Aladdin's magic rug

It's the discrimination wiper-out

The Bogside Doodle Bug.

Song No. 23

BOGSIDE MAN

The Bogside man is the man for me

He's cut the recruiting in the RUC

He was the Bogside man.

CHORUS

Steady on your aim with the petrol bomb

Don't throw it son, till the peelers come

I am the Bogside man.

From Belfast town now the Specials came

They looked at the sky, it started to rain

With gratings

The Specials came in brown and black

Your granny ran out and they all run back

She married the Bogside man

We're all browning off with the midnight raids

Every man to the barricades

We are the Bogside men

The Bogside now has been set free

The rats have left with the RUC

We are the Bogside men

One to each room they'll make you cram

Less to a room in Pakistan

You are the Bogside men

For a house they'll tell you all to save

You'll get a tent or a bloody cave

In the Bogside

I haven't the change of a shirt or coat

There'll be a change when I get me vote

I am the Bogside man.

Song No. 24

THE BATTLE OF CARRICK HILL

Up in Tennant Street, the Orangemen assembled,

Their drums made a terrible din,

They came down Peter's Hill in their thousands

Determined to cross Carrick Hill.

Annie Largy was the first one to see them,

On her bugle she gave a loud blast,

From the houses the people came tumbling,

Swearing that no Orangemen would get past.

Father Bradley ran out of St. Patricks,

Gave three chimes on the old chapel bell,

And the wind victims of Millfield assembled,

Swearing to give all the Orangemen hell.

Josie Meekin that hero fought so bravely

He's a man we never can thank

He came out of the scrapyard like Rommel

Firing shells from an old German tank.

But at last poor Buxie Drummond was

Surrounded, outnumbered by forty to one,

His hatchet with blood was all blunted

And his ammunition was done.

But then down from Turf Lodge Reservation

Sure the Carrick Hill arabs did come,

Boggie Bradley was there with his father

And both of them carried a gun.

Tommy Murray he saddled his old piebald,

Diddler McCann sure he stole a van,

And Punter O'Donnel came on horseback

And the rest of the troops they just ran.

The dawn it was breaking on Belfast

Carrick Hill was all covered in red

Lenny Deighton was hiring out handcarts

For the Orangemen to take home their dead.

Song No. 25

BALLYMURPHY

If you hate the British Army, clap your hands

If you hate the British Army, clap your hands

If you hate the British Army,

If you hate the British Army,

If you hate the British Army, clap your hands.

They come down from Ballymurphy

When they come,

They come down from Ballymurphy

When they come,

Sure the children won the day,

When they all ran away,

They were only little children, ever one.

We don't want the British Army here to stay

We don't want the British Army here to stay

We don't want to the defended

By an army that surrended

When the kids of Ballymurphy came to play.

Oh, the general he has fainted, is he dead?

Oh, the general he has fainted, is he dead?

For if the women join the fight,

We'll wipe the Army out tonight

For them women are all Ballymurphy bred.

A coded message came from nowhere, it did say,

At the peril of your lives, ah if you stay,

Oh now men don't be surprised,

But Turf Lodge has organised

And a doubledecker bus is on its way.

The British Army they will never be the same

The British Army they will never be the same,

The bravest of them fighting men,

They were beat by kids of ten,

Aye, Ballymurphy put the army all to shame.

If you hate the RUC, clap your hands

If you hate the RUC, clap your hands

If you hate the RUC, if you hate the RUC,

If you hate the RUC, clap your hands.

Song No. 26

JACK LYNCH

Well Jack Lynch came out from Dublin

And he had 10,000 men

He marched them up to the border

And he marched them home again

But such an armoured column, lads

The like was never seen

500 mounted bicycles all wearing green

CHORUS

Let him go, let him tarry

Let him sink or let him swim

He doesn't give a damn for us

Or we a damn for him

He sits on his ass in Dublin

And I hope do does enjoy

Selling out his country

For he's England's little boy.

Well, the Special Branch in Dublin

Are something for to see

They'll crawl out from the castle

To inform on you and me

But the day is coming soon, me boys

You'll hear those rifles bark

And the only snakes in Dublin

Will be in the Phoenix Park

Well, Jack, where were you last August

With all your merry men

Ah were you on the Falls Road or

In the Bogisde then?

No you were phoning London

And squealing all you knew

On every Irish Rebel

That would hold a gun, it's true

When we finally get our freedom

We will make them understand

Scrap Fianna Fail Gestapo

And all their rotten band

But we want a true republic

With the workers in command

That won't betray their countrymen

Or sell them out of land.

Song No. 27

THE BRANDYWELL

My name is Johnny Quigley, I'll sing to you my song

The Brandywell in Derry Town, that's where I come from

The Lone Moore and the Lecky Road, I played there as a boy

I climbed the slopes of Creggan Hill, to watch the Foyle flow by.

My mother worked a twelve-hour shift for very little pay

Stitching cuffs and collars in the shirt factory all day

My Da got work down at the docks about one day in ten

You'll find him at the corner standing with the other men.

My uncle John trained greyhounds and we'd walk them down the line

Chasing rats and rabbits, we had ourselves a time

He took me to the boxing, I saw Billy Kelly fight

And when he won the title, I cried for joy that night

My Da played at the rebel game and when he met defeat

They locked him in the jailhouse at the top of Bishop Street

He escaped with seven other men and across the Border fled

And so we had to visit him in the Curragh Camp instead

When I was fourteen years of age and filled with a young man's dreams

I took the boat to Scotland then to hoke the tatty fields

I slept out in the bothy camps, I took the farmer's blows

Returning in October with my prize, a suit of clothes.

Then came the day I married my wife and I did tramp

To our cottage in the countryside, they called it Springtown Camp

The walls were corrugated tin with the water running down

Five hundred homeless families occupied that shanty town.

The corporation housing it was managed by a man

Who owned half the slums of Derry Town, his partner owned the land

When the men who own the money are the men who own the law

The slogan on the bookie's wall said "We want better odds"!

And so we started marching with McCann in '68

They tried to buy us off with crumbs but it was far too late

They sent the thugs in uniform to smash us, they did try

Three days we fought them hand in hand in the Battle of Bogside

It was Free Derry Corner, we built a barricade

Men and kids and women together unafraid

A job and justice and a home was all the marchers sought

But 13 men on Derry's Streets, the paratroopers shot.

When the firing started it was time for us to choose

Except for my place in the dole queue, I hadn't much to lose

The road is long, the struggle hard, we'll get there just the same

We're off our knees in Derry now, and we'll not bow down again

Song No. 28

THE TROOPS OUT SONG

Now you've come to this meeting, so listen kind people

I'll sing you a song with an Irish refrain

The trouble in Belfast would be over damn fast

If only the troops would go back home again.

It was six years in August they come here among us

Some brought them for supper in out of the rain

Oh they must have been barmy to welcome the army

And now wish that the troops would go back home again

Go out for a wander, they're down at the corner

Hands up till they search you, it's always the same

I've done it that often me head's goin' soft, and

I wish that the troops would go back home again.

Each four months they're over, be they drunk or sober,

On peace-keeping duties, the government's claim

Far better at lootin' and poor peoples shootin'

I wish that the troops would go back home again.

Joined up with the hope of adventure and travel,

Black Watch and the Gloucesters, that Paras the same

With black dirt on their faces, the exotic places

They'll see is damn few 'til they're back home again

They go down to the border, come back a few shorter

No palm trees and surfing down by Cross Maglen

By each shadow haunted, and know they're not wanted,

And all wish to bejesus they were back home again.

So come every soldier, be sure I have told you,

The people in this country hold you for to blame

If its flying or rowing, as long as you're going,

And never come back to old Ireland again!

Song No. 29

HOME YOU GO

If you join the British Army

Be sure and have no doubt

Unless you are an officer

It's hard to buy yourself out

Home you go (Home you go)

Home you go (Home you go)

Home, you British Soldier, Home you go

Straight from the dole in Liverpool

Or a dead end job in Crewe

Here defending businessmen

Who are laughing hard at you

All travel and adventure

The advertisement said

Walking the streets of Belfast

In the cold and rain instead

You joined the British Army

To learn a new career

Walking backwards, a gun in your hand

Is all that you found here

Your sergeant fought in Cyprus

In Aden he done his share

Ask him did the people

Really want your army there

When your kids ask what you did in Ulster

What are you going to say?

A screw in a concentration camp

A guard in Castlereagh

It's time that you were leaving

It's time you were away

'Fore a coffin and tin medal

Are the bonus with your pay

Home you go

Home you go

Home, you British Soldier, Home you go

Song No. 30

THE ANGRY BRIGADE

Back in 1969, some people organised

To challenge the power of the State

Demanding revolution now, they began to show us how

Fight back with the Angry Brigade

Angry! Fight back with the Angry Brigade

Against the South African and Spain's fascist regime

They carried out many's a daring raid

Each embassy and bank knew just who they had to thank

Machine-gunned by the Angry Brigade

Up in Birmingham there was a certain man

Who monopolised most of the building trade

Forced his men to work the lump, well they made the bastard jump

Called on by the Angry Brigade

No. 12 Communique was a message that did say

Kids don't join the British Army for a trade

In Glasgow, Leeds or Brum, which way would you point your gun?

Join the ranks of the Angry Brigade

The Tories had a plan, as you might understand

The rights of working people soon would fade

But the bosses went too far, the comrades called on Robert Carr

His mansion wrecked by the Angry Brigade

Comrades were framed and jailed, some people say they failed

The same folk who say the fight must be delayed

But no matter what they say, the A.B. showed us all the way

Fight back with the Angry Brigade

Angry! Fight back with the Angry Brigade.

Song No. 32

THE BLANKET MEN

On Belfast Streets the kids are playing

Boys and girls of nine and ten

Older brothers they are missing

Political prisoners, blanket men.

CHORUS

England's tombstone, H-Block (SMASH IT!)

Support the struggle for the blanket men

(Repeat both lines)

These men who protest, where do they come from?

Belfast, Derry, Crossmaglen

From every town, from every county

Taken these brave blanket men,

What of the women who fought beside them?

In Armagh they're holding them

Other women too are marching

Leaders of the struggle for the blanket men

Naked in cells, brutalised and beaten

They don't fight for personal gain

Soldiers of the revolution

Emmett and Connolly, now the blanket men

Guards of H-Block now take warning

Earn big money while you can

You'll be looking for a place to hide in

When Ireland frees her blanket men

Song No. 33

HOME, SOLDIER, HOME

A soldier being weary he laid down his head

He called for knapsack to make himself a bed

He lay down on the street, aye as tramps have often done

And he swore and declared he was sorry he had come

CHORUS

And it's Home, Soldier, Home! home you ought to be

Home far away in your own country

With your steel war machinery and your stinking CS gas

Your old rubber bullets you can stick them up your arse

And it's early the next morning the soldier he arose

The streets were full of broken glass, the walls will bullet holes

The sergeant he stood over him and he bellowed in his ear

You can do that over there my boy but you can't do that there 'ere!

So let's drink a toast to Belfast and the unemployment too

Get back to dear old England where there's work for you to do

The unemployed will rise when the time comes to fight

It's written on the wall just as the day follows night.

Song No. 34

JOE McCANN

From the back streets of the city, from the darkness came a man

Dressed in a battle jacket, with a carbine in his hand

He came to lead the people, told them, "Do not be afraid,

If working people organise, we'll win," that's what he said

Through Belfast he would wander, with a big price on his head

The poor did not betray him, for in their homes he stayed.

Internment came, they did not take him, "Go to the South," they said

No more we'll run, but hold our guns at the barricades instead.

Came the night I well remember, the night of the Market raid,

The people's army in the street, outnumbered, unafraid.

With a small band of his comrades, a regiment he held at bay

All night he fought to hold them off that his men might get away.

Down Joy Street he was walking, the Branch men laid their plan,

The soldiers shot him down unarmed, they feared that brave young man.

They shot him in the Markets, the people's friend was lying dead,

We'll not forget the words he spoke, "Organise now," big Joe said.

Song No. 35

THE FALLS ROAD TAXI MAN

As I roved out through Belfast town, around by Castle Street,

Seeking transportation, a young man I did meet.

They said his name was Cosgrove, some called him Desperate Dan,

For he risked his life ten times a day as a Falls Road taxi man.

Well, I put two bob into his hand and I climbed inside the car,

Well that was all they charged us for travelling near or far,

With fourteen other passengers, we made a noble band,

As we set out from Sawyers with the Falls Road taxi man

On board an expectant mother with not too long to wait,

We hit the ramps at Hastings Street, will I knew it was too late,

But Cosgrove, he was smiling with a baby in his hand,

"We've just delivered a rebel boy!" cried the Falls Road taxi man.

Well when we got to Divis Street, he said, "Now bar your door,

For twelve apostles in the back, well you'd better get on the floor."

For an armoured car was across the road, he said "We'll have to ram,

With my bumpers stold from Macky's," said the Falls Road taxi man.

Well, then we reached the White Rock Road, on the floor we had to lie,

The tracer bullets from the tanks they were lighting up the sky.

Well above the din a man called out, "Oh please stop if you can."

"You'll have to use your parachute," cried the Falls Road taxi man.

Well when we got to Kennedy Way, the night was growing dark,

We dropped another passenger just outside Casement Park.

There was a riot going on, we upset the soldier's plan,

"Oh we've just run over the major," cried the Falls Road taxi man.

We reached out destination just west of Lenadoon,

We knew that we would all be safe in God's own country soon.

Where the pigs did not adventure and where the paratroops ran,

So we all shook hands and said farewell to the Falls Road taxi man.

Song No. 36

JESUS AND JESSE

Freedom Fantasy

Come and gather round me children, hear the story handed down

How Jesus Christ and Jesse James rode into Belfast town.

They stopped for a drink, and they stopped for a meal,

Drinking whiskey, drinking wine.

They were feeling mighty fine.

As they rode to Belfast town through the hills of Ligoniel.

Not a word was spoken as they travelled on their way

Until they reached the Horseshoe Bend and Jesse he did say,

"I haven't felt so good since I robbed the Glendale train."

But Jesus he replied as he hung his head and sighed,

"I never thought I'd thought I'd see the like of Calvary again."

Jesus rode on a donkey and Jesse straddled a mare,

They wandered past the troops and tanks and never showed a care.

While Jesse on his fiddle played the Crossing of the Boyne,

But Jesus raised his head, turned to Jesse and said

"I think you'd better change the tune for we're passing through Ardoyne."

They stared at burnt-out houses and the tangle of barbed wire,

For the city dragged up from the swamp was baptised in the fire.

Jesus would have blessed the place but a bullet grazed his hand.

As the blood came dripping red, he bandaged it and said,

"It's just that old stigmata: it always comes as planned."

Though the Angelus was ringing there was no foggy dew,

But rifles cracked and thundered with machine guns rattled too.

And the saviour tossed a coin for each battle won and lost.

Armageddon and the Somme lived in each petrol bomb

And they've broken up the Trinity, father, son and holocaust.

On the top of Divis Mountain there stands a lonely tree,

When little childred pass there, they stop and bend a knee,

And men with hidden guns make a silent vow;

For the riots stopped that day and the soldiers came away

To nail Christ to the trunk and hang Jesse from the bough.

Song No. 37

SEAMUS TOOMEY'S ESCAPE

It was half three in the afternoon, October thirty one,

The exercise in D wing yard had barely just begun.

The screws were looking puzzled, they heard a funny noise,

When a big bird dropped down from the sky, and took away the boys.

'Twas that famous helicopter the lads had organised,

To rescue Seamus Toomey, the man the British feared,

Along with Kevin Mallon and O'Hagan by his side,

Says he, "Three one way tickets," as they boldly stepped inside.

Some thought it was an eagle, and some thought it was a crow,

Some thought it was an albatross, they didn't really know.

But what whirlybird it landed, in Mountjoy Jail that day

And those three brave Republicans, to freedom flew away.

Down from his office window, the Governor he did stare,

And as he broke down crying, "Oh," says he, "It isn't fair,

I've put barbed wire along the walls, and every door is barred,

But the IRA flew in one day, and landed in me yard."

Cosgrove give the orders to seal every road and port,

And anything suspicious, to immediately report.

His army and his navy, they were searching night and day,

But those IRA men, they were safe and far away.

Song No. 39

BACK TO PALESTINE

Father dear I love to hear you speak of Palestine

Its mountains high up to the sky, its deserts wild and fine

And for 2000 years and more our people there did dwell

Oh why did you abandon it? The reason to me tell

With Turkish rule we lived as slaves, till they could rule no more

Sold to the British Empire then, part of the spoils of war

Balfour's declaration, to the Jews he gave our land

So in '36 against the Brits we rose to free our land.

And then just after World War II most of the planters came

From some pages in a Holy Book to our country they made claim

We had to leave our villages our home we left behind

We were bought and sold for oil and gold and forced from Palestine.

And so we built the PLO and in the desert trained

We fought to free our country and of that we're not ashamed

Our history and out culture banned and thats the greatest crime

And to our people they're denied our homeland Palestine.

Our brothers and our sisters died, killed by Israeli planes

They left our refugee camps all in rubble smoke and flames

With jet planes bought in Europe, bombs from the USA

Whose two faced politicans dare to speak of peace to-day.

Nicaragua to South Africa, they just can't keep us down

A bomb goes off in West Belfast, they hear it in Capetown

Yes we have many friends to-day and now has come the time

For us to claim our homeland and return to Palestine.

Song No. 40

RUBBER BULLETS

CHORUS

Rubber bullets for the ladies,

Catch them in a CS can,

Three inches wide, six inches long,

Take it home to your old man,

It's an instrument of torture,

To break your legs in two,

It'll stop you feeling lonely,

But leave you black and blue.

When you've had your fill of CS gas

Behind the barricade,

And served your time with half bricks,

You've learned a brand new trade,

Fighting for your freedom,

The dignity of man,

Look out for rubber bullets,

The Army's latest plan.

If you family's going hungry,

Curfew needn't break your heart

The Army's solved your problem,

You can bake a rubber tart,

When you're under house arrest,

And your nerves are getting frayed.

The prescription's rubber bullets

Fired from underneath the bed.

Don't forget the highway code

When crossing of the street,

A bullet doing ninety

Could leave you obsolete,

Watch when stepping off the kerb,

I'm being quite sincere,

A bullet in the proper place

Could leave you feeling queer.

When a soldier says he loves you

Behind the barricade,

Look out for rubber bullets

And grab his red cockade

The bullet's meant to stun you

Be careful how you bend

If if breaks a leg or two

The Army's sure to comprehend.

Song No. 41

INTERNEE

It was four o'clock in the morning when they dragged from his bed,

They dragged him to their lorry, and not a word they said,

They brought him to their barracks, they tortured him for days

To break his mind and body, they tried many awful ways.

He lies behind a barbed wire fence in a concentration camp,

He's guarded there by men and dogs a foreign country sent.

No judge or jury tried him, of no crime he is accused,

How long they hold him prisoner, to tell me they've refused.

Each time I make the journey to the place where he is held,

By rough hands of foreign soldiers to the search I am compelled.

I watch him growing weaker, his strength fades every day,

To free him and his brothers we'll have to find a way.

I watch the politicians as they use him like a pawn,

Furthering their own careers, how long must it go on?

I've come to know his jailers, I know what must be done,

The only voice they'll listen to is from behind a gun.

Song No. 42

PADDY REILLY

Well have you heard the story that is going round today

For me good mate Paddy Reilly

Up and joined the IRA

And he's off with a rifle in his hand

He's fighting with that gallant band

They're fighting for the freedom of the people.

He wears no fancy uniform

He learnt no clever drill

But he trained with his rifle

And he used it to kill

And he moves with the cunning of a fox

He's firing lead, no longer rocks

Here's to the men like Paddy Reilly.

He used to work on a building site

He was shop steward there,

Now there's a ban on overtime

So he's got time to spare.

And so he's learned a different trade

And when the army make a raid,

They'll have to face the men like Paddy Reilly.

He doesn't care who fought for what

In the Battle of the Boyne

But he knows what it's like to live

On the Falls Road or Ardoyne.

For religon's not his cup of tea

But he's got a thing about liberty

Fighting now for freedom, Paddy Reilly

For liberals and moderates he does not give a straw

They let us rot for 50 years, and said, "Now keep the law."

They say, "Now wait another 100 years

And help to allay those right wing fears

Crawl back in your gutter, Paddy Reilly."

But Paddy now is off his knees

And standing on his feet

And the people there behind him

Leave an empire's winding sheet

There dodging among the tanks and cans

Whiles away the night-time hours

Planting bombs for freedom, Paddy Reilly.

Song No. 43

HAVE YOU GOT A PENNY, MISTER?

Have you got a penny, Mister, have you got a dime?

Have you got the inclination, or have you got the time?

To listen to my story, and the truth I mean to tell,

How the politician's main intent's to con us all like hell!

Well they say the world took six days and six nights to complete,

And the seventh was a resting day, and sure it was a feat.

Of incredible ingenuity, resourcefulness and skill,

With the Lagan River flowin' down beneath Belfast Cave Hill

Ay, the people they came later on to fill up Belfast town,

Ay and some were orange , some were green, and some were even brown.

They were browned off with (unintilligible) that keeps us color-blind.

To the colors fed to their big machine to crush and squeeze the grind.

Aye, they'll squeeze you for a penny and they'll crush you for a dime,

Aye, they'll build a movin' ghetto, to keep athwart the time.

The times they are a-changin' style the politicians rant,

And roarin' lies and tales of hypocritic lyin' cant,

Aye, well have you got a penny, mister have you got a dime?

Have you got the inclination, or have you got the time?

To quietly demolish the ghettos, one by one,

The truth will come to light, me boys, just like the mornin' sun

Aye, well have you got a penny, mister, have you got a dime?

Song No. 44

CORMAC MACLLVOGUE

My name is Cormac Macllvogue, the truth to you I'll tell

There was a girl from Lisburn town, ach sure I loved her well

Here name it was fair Annie Doyle, and married we would be

But for some reason of his own, her brother slighted me.

It was down in yonder valley we used to sport and play

Her brother John came on us one evening as we lay

He pulled a pistol from his side, he tried to shoot me dead

His aim untrue, I tell to you, fair Annie fell instead.

The soldiers came that very night, up to my father's farm

They read aloud a warrant, which filled me with alarm

For the murder of young Annie Doyle they dragged me off to jail

Which left me father to mourn, me mother there to wail.

The old judge turned around to me, the black cloth on his head

Saying, "God have mercy on your soul. You'll hang until you're dead".

"I'm innocent, I'm innocent, oh God, this can't be so."

But the turnkeys there on either side, they dragged me down below.

They threw me in a cold dark cell, and I lay on the floor.

Another man locked up with me at first I did ignore.

The turnkey brough me supper in, foul water and black bread.

Says he, "Now get accquainted with your cellmate Rebel Ned".

He bade me tell my story, and I told of my fear

That I could hang for another man's crime, the execution near.

He'd been captured in the mountains, a gallant Raparee

And gently whispered in my ear, "Tonight we'll both be free!".

At dead of night a scuffle, and down went both our guards.

The men that Scarsfield left behind tied ropes around the bars

They whipped their horses into flight, the timber frames gave way

"The hangman's rope will have to wait", said Ned, "another day".

In search of Annie's brother John I rode, as dawn (rose) in the sky

I ordered him to come and face a man condemned to die.

"If not for you she'd be alive, not in a cold grave laid.

Oh they can't hang me a second time," I shot the bastard dead.

Then to the Belfast mountains in haste I did repair.

With Rebel Ned's bold Raparees I'll take me chances there.

They've placed a reward on my head, called me a murdering rogue.

Judge for yourself, you've heard the tale of Cormack Macllvogue.

Song No. 45

IF THEY COME IN THE MORNING

They call it the law, apartheid, internment,

conscription, partition and silence.

Its a law that they made to keep you and me

where they think we belong.

They live behind steel and bullet-proof glass,

machine guns and spies,

And tell us who suffer their tear-gas and torture

that we're in the wrong.

Chorus

No time for love if they come in the morning,

No time to show fear or for tears in the morning.

No time for goodbyes, no time to ask why,

And the wail of the siren is the cry of the morning.

The trade union leaders, the writers,

the rebels, the fighters and all,

The strikers who fought with the cops

at their factory gates,

The sons and the daughters of unnumbered heroes

who paid with their lives,

And the poor folk whose colour or class or

belief was their only mistake.

They suffered the torture, they rotted in cells,

wrote letters, went crazy and died.

The limits of pain they endured,

but the loneliness got them instead.

And the courts gave them justice,

as justice is given by well-mannered thugs.

Sometimes they fought for the will to survive,

and sometimes they wished they were dead.

They took away Sacco, Vanzetti, Connelly

and Pearse in their time.

They came for Newton and Seale, and the Panthers

and some of their friends.

In Boston, Chicago, Saigon, Santiago,

Capetown and Belfast,

And places that never made headlines,

the list never ends.

They tell you that here you are free to live

and to say what you please,

To march and to write and to sing _

as long as you do it alone.

But say it and do it with comrades

united and strong,

And they'll send you for a long rest

with walls and barbed wire for a home.

The boys in blue are only a few of the

everyday cops on their beat.

The CID, Branch men and spies, and informers

do their job as well.

Behind them the men to tap phones and take pictures,

and programme computers and file,

And men who give orders which tell them

just when to take you to a cell.

Some come all you people who give to your brothers and sisters

the will to fight on.

They say you get used to a war, but that doesn't mean

that the war isn't on.

The fish need the sea to survive,

just like your comrades do,

And the death squad can only get to them

if first they can get through to you.

Chorus

Song No. 46

BROAD RIVER BANKS OF THE FOYLE

He carried our civil rights banner

the day I first met with John

One man, one vote the slogan

That day as we all marched alond

At Burntollet the ambush was waiting

They battered us into the soil

Unbroken we marched on to Derry

On the broad river banks of Lough Foyle

A brave brand new day it was coming

Winds of change were sweeping the land

There was nothing on earth now could stop us

Freedom, justice our only demand

In those wild stirring of our courtship

We saw Stormont crumble and fall

As we marched hand and hand on together

On the broad river banks of Lough Foyle

But our masters just wouldn't listen

The soldiers marched into the town

We were young, from our knees we had risen

Young croppies who wouldn't lie down

Gunfire swept down the Lonemoor and the Lecky

We saw comrades and good neighbours fall

And the blood of young stained the waters

On the broad river banks of Lough Foyle

They left blood on our civil rights banner

The day the paras fired into the crowd

As we covered the dead and the dying

Peaceful protest we wrapped in that shroud

Once again they had left us no option

From the struggle we did not recoil

Soon the sounds of our marching and drilling

Echoed down the broad banks of Lough Foyle

The names of his comrades now legend

Eamon Lafferty Coyle and McCool

Killed in action with Oglaigh Na hEireann

The few words that we carved on their tombs

When the soldiers surrounded the farmhouse

John was taken with Meehan and Doyle

And then dragged to the H-Blocks of Long Kesh

Far from the broad river banks of Lough Foyle

My love has now crossed the Atlantic

Works under another mans name

In the building sites of San Francisco

Where so many exiles do the same

And now I am going to join him

In my hand take a small piece of soil

When the red blaze of freedom is shining

We'll return to the banks of Lough Foyle

Song No. 47

WALK IN THE SHADOW

You walk in the shadow, stay there somehow

With the people behind you, they trust in you now

But of all freedom fighters you've so hard a task

To lead freedom's struggle and it made it the last.

When you were a boy and you lived on the Falls

And you read those old slogans still there on the walls

You asked the big question, the fire it did burn

And you knew in your soul that our time would still come

When we were still young and we marched for our rights

And they crushed us with rifles, they had you in their sights

Gandhi was a good man but each of his own

And you knew we'd get nowhere till we'd guns of our own

They came for you in the night and they took you away

They said for talking of freedom they'd soon make you pay

You read revolution with comrades make plans

And you watched as they murdered the brave Bobby Sands

You walked from Long Kesh, education complete

Started planning for victory never thought of defeat

The movement was growing you helped built it strong

The Brits in a panic, their war going wrong.

We have come down the road the road a hard one and long

Wise men bishops have told us we're wrong

We were few now we're many, the fuse burning fast

What'll be their excuse when you take West Belfast

Song No. 50

PEADAR O'DONNELL

Kind friends please pay attention now and listen one and all

I'll sing of Peadar O'Donnell from North West Donegal

A writer, Freedom figher, you studied all the while

You taught the kids on Inisfree and then on Aran Isle.

You took the boat to Scotland, where you heard great John Maclean

Stand up for working man, their right for to maintain

Against the bad conditions and low pay he urged them rise

You joined the Transport Union and began to organise.

When Dan Breen pulled the trigger, and the freedom fight began

To the Donegal Mountains came England's Black and Tan

You formed a Flying Column, up in the Blue Stacks then

From the Bogside and the Brandywell, marched Derry's union men

The treaty it was signed and sealed in London, with the rebels you

did stand,

with Liam Lynch in the Four Courts you are second in command

You walked the yard in Arbour Hill, behind Kilmainham's walls so high

And the night they murdered Mellows, in the next cell you did lie

The treaty signed in England it began to sink in then

We had to pay the landlords back for every hill and glen

On a stone wall in Gweedore you stood, it was after mass one day

The people stopped to listen when you told us, do not pay.

You went to live on Achill Isle in the County of Mayo

The clergymen was screaming, and said you'd have to go

The people stood behind you and you stayed on there to write

Your book "The Gates Flew Open" and the novel called "The Knife".

When the jack boots and the Swastika came marching into Spain

O'Duffy and his Blueshirts they rushed off to do the same

They queued up to condemn you but you were not afraid

You told us to support Frank Ryan and the International Brigade.

You decorations from the state, no medals, no brass band

For in their eyes you never ceased to be a dangerous man

And that's the biggest compliment they ever paid to you

And our battle cry once more shall be "O' Donnell Abu"

Song No. 52

CROPPIES

I know a man and his brain's also ran

and his mind is befuddled by love of a crown

Like a drunken pub bore he will rant and he'll roar

At croppies who will not lie down

Chorus

Those croppies who will not lie down

Those croppies who will not lie down

When all's said and done you knows freedom is won

By croppies who will not lie down.

On England's fair shore there are people galore

Whose greatest delight is Diana's new gown

Their minds filled with trash they accept Maggie's lash

And curse croppies who will not lie down.

I'll sing you the praises of Bold Ho Chi Minh

And the people of Vietnam gathered all round

And of that bright dawn they marched into Saigon

Like croppies who will not lie down

On the streets of Soweto the cry it is heard

And the poor white man's forehead is creased with a frown

For it's not what he planned and he can't understand

Those croppies who will not lie down

In Central America those who have planned

To build a life free from the Washington clown

Freedom's the game, Sandinistas the name

Of croppies who will not lie down

So here's to the women and here's to the men

In every land, every village and town

Who know what is right and they're willing to fight

Like croppies who will not lie down

Song No. 55

A SONG FOR SEAN McBRIDE

Kind friends please pay attention, I'll tell to you with pride

Of a man who fought for his country, whose name is known world wide

Fiery Maude Gonne, his mother, she worked for prisoners all her

life

Major McBride, his father, who in 1916 gave his life.

They sent Sean off to Paris there to study as he may

Your fathers shot by firing squad, in class he heard one day

The black and tans were in the streets, when to Dublin he returned

At first he joined the Fianna then for Mick Collins held a gun

From Beggars Bush the auxies down by Mount Street made their way

With a gallant band of comrades he ambushed them every day

The treaty came but Sean stayed true, held the four courts with the

rest

Shared a cell with Rory O'Connor the night the staters shot our

best

Sean studied law and from sure death McCurtains life he saved

De Valera tried to hang him but was beaten by the brave

At Sean McCaughy's inquest, one question put that day

If it was a dog, not a republican, would you dare treat him that

way

The United Nations asked him to investigate worldwide

And expose the use of torture, leave them nowhere now to hide

The Nobel prize for peace award to Ireland turned her eyes

He battled hard for human rights they said give Sean the prize.

Now to conclude and finish I say think of the man

Who fought interment, extradition in so many many lands

His principles remembered, the underdog his side

When united as a nation they will mention Sean McBride

Song No. 56

THE WILD COLONIAL BOY

There was a wild young Belfast man ny the name of McIlroy

The seventh son of a seventh son, his mothers pride and joy

His father drove an oul' black hack and on his knee the boy

You could hear him squeal behind the wheel, the Wild Colonial Boy.

At the early age of fourteen years he hijacked his first motor car

With a big girl from Saint Roses, he travelled near and far

Ride hard, die free, you're the world to me, she whispered shy and

coy

And love's sweet pang like sharp steel fangs pierced the Wild

Colonial Boy

One morning on the New Lodge road, as Jack he rode along

Tuned into Downtown Radio the Pogues sang out a song

Out jumped three RUC men, his young life to destroy

They'll believe me now that pigs can fly said the Wild Colonial Boy

Up to his flat in a Divis squat, came the slithery RUC

"If you don't turn informer, we'll shoot you one two three"

To the UDA they gave away their file on McIlroy

So like Owen Roe he had to go, the Wild Colonial Boy

To the free state's sunny shores he has inclined to roam

Where he always stole pig fancy cars the small ones left alone

More tar in a Park Drive cigarette than on their roads deploy

The guards set out to capture him, the Wild Colonial Boy

He stopped to fill his souped up Saab in the town of Crossmaglen

A dealin' man into contraband gave him his first start then

He rattled the roads of South Armagh, the checkpoints to destroy

One sniff of glue and then shoot through, the Wild Colonial Boy

He went for a job down to Dublin town as a getaway driving man

To rob the Bank of Ireland the bold bank robbing plan

With an oul' sawed-off stuck in his belt, he waved it like a toy

"I'll fight but not surrender" cried the Wild Colonial Boy

Bad news came down from Belfast town, from his mother old and grey

"Your Da done doing the double, fell to the loan sharks sway

Our pension books held by the crook," she tole her only boy

And as mean as Jaws, those bold outlaws, headed North through

Auchnacloy

The deal was done in the PDF that the boys wouldn't interfere

In this family dispute he was free to shoot, soon gunfire filled

the air

In Belfast West there's a loanshark less and a mothers pride and

joy

Has at last come home, no more to roam, the Wild Colonial Boy.

Song No. 57

FREE STATE ADJUDICATOR

(Tune:- Bogs of Shanaheever)

At these oul' gatherings for years, well it always made me weary

For to hear those old boys sing their big ballads long and dreary

But my mother said, "Son, sing" and nothing would placate her

So it was down to the Fleadh and the Fleadh Cheoil adjudicator

I practised hard for days, songs of love and of Napoleon

Learned not to sing 'till I was asked three times, the false start

and the loud coughing

I would catch the fear-a-te's eye, to stop that oul' diddle-e-de,

none braver

Then its down to Listowel and the Fleadh ceoil adjudicator

With me gold earring and cowboy boots, me bomber jacket, I was

wearing

Its a bloody Fleadh cowboy I heard your man a swearing

When I rolled a wee cheerout, put it behind my ear for later

"Well by God he's on the drugs," says this free-state adjudicator

In Fermanagh now for years they've been plagued by Paddy Tunney

And Brian Murphy in Forkhill would only sing for the big money

But there's none of them I fear, none of them I favour

Until I was betrayed by a free state adjudicator

He said the Ulster style was wrong and my choice of song was

shocking

And my ornamentation nil, boys, I was going to clock him

My song had been sung by the fenian men, the bard John Reilly later

"You got that from Christy Moore," says this free state adjudicator

My parish priest sang next and I saw my chances fading

The adjudicator smiled, green and brown scapulors round him

trailing

When I dropped my carry-out the bottle of Buckfast I did break her

The pioneer pin began to glow on the lapel of the adjudicator

Up to Dublin he'd been sent for two days intensive training

Buying Macmahuna pints, his certificate a gaining

He thought Sean Nos was the boy who might join the session later

And from Monkstown he emerged, an expert adjudicator

When Ireland's set free by young men and women brave and daring

And Belfast will host at last a Fleadh Cheoil N'hEireann

All informers will be shot, every rogue and every traitor

And a last song we'll request from all free state adjudicators

Song No. 63

SISTER LOVE & COMRADE DEATH

The rain was falling hard .... but the wind held its breath

When walking on the NEW LODGE ROAD I met with COMRADE DEATH

He grabbed my arm, I turned to run, he whispered in my ear

"I'm just a Third World tourist ... there is no need to fear."

Sister Love and Comrade Death were walking by the sea

Sister Love said, "Comrade Death I like your company."

We rolled along the Antrim coast where a lonesome seabird calls

Said Death, "The views delighted... but I'd rather see the Falls."

I took him to the PDF, all on a Friday night

No one there turned a hair but the hair of Death turned white.

Sister Love and Comrade Death lay cramped in a single bed

Sister Love said, "Comrade Death its time that we were wed."

Comrade Death took the stage, a microphone in hand

The noisy crowd fell silent when he played "THIS IS MY LAND"

I put a fiddle into his hand and said, "Can you play a tune?"

He played "LIGHTNING DANCED IN ARDOYNE ON A SUNNY AFTERNOON"

"Sister Love," said Comrade Death, "We will be married, of course

For I've always regarded the words 'I do' as the first steps to

divorce."

I took him down to BARNEY'S BAR and bought him a ten of wine

He said, "If I had a piece of bread I'd leave you with a sign."

Then Comrade Death smiled at me a twinkle in his eye

His foxy grin charmed me so I was almost ready to die

Tears were rolling down my cheeks as they flew across the skies

Sister Love turned to me "FOR GODS SAKE DRY YOUR EYES"

The rain was falling hard... the wind it's breath

Walking on the NEW LODGE ROAD I met with COMRADE DEATH

Song No. 63

RED WINE SLOWLY

(Rose & the Nightingale)

We drank the red wine slowly and the band began to play rock'n'roll

Seven smiling children danced round the flowing bowl

The morning sun was going down and signing on the dole

Evening dreams had all been liquidated

The laughter that once rang in the streets had suddenly turned to

jeers

A bright eyed British soldier boy dissolved in a little pool of

tears

I met her in the shadows where the grey fog never clears

She said "Is this a war the gods created?"

A wet wind in the pine trees carried dandelion seeds

That rich men might get richer and satisfy their greeds

Let the poor die like flies for they like rabbits breed

Let the wealthy man's desires be sated.

But one dandelion seed in its time became a beautiful rose

No jungle garden weed but crimson red it blows

And each bloom bore a thorn protecting if from foes

And who can say the flower was violated?

Kings and priests and landlords gasped with horror and dismay

For on the six o'clock news they heard seven children say

We'll join the Tupamaros and fight for the IRA

We'll bury god in ground unconsecrated.

The shadow on the pavement came from a H-Block cell

In Palestine and Vietnam they rang a funeral bell

And walking on the Whiterock Road I heard a wise maid tell

The Nightingale and Rose have mated.

Song No. 65

THE BOUL' JOSEPH LOCKE

In our wee town of Derry there's childer born plenty

But the Doctors stood 'round him in wonder and shock

Though blue murder arising his voice it was pleasing

The first squaks of the wee'un they'd call Joseph Locke

Above Little Diamond just 'cross from the Cathedral

He was reared 'mongst the best of oul' Derry's own stock

'Bove Red Dickie's chipper he lived as a nipper

Aye, Derry's own tenor the Boul' Joseph Locke

In Derry's own Guildhall he shocked them and thrilled all

His voice broke the Lord Mayor's Decanter before he did stop

His lungs there expanding he left Gigli standing

Aye, Derrys own tenor, the Boul' Joseph Locke

So it's off he went raking, a fortune a-making

Caruso himself came to listen and watch

Opera House, City Hall sure he packed out them all

Aye, Derry's own tenor, the Boul' Joseph Locke

The girls thought he was smashin', loved him with great passion

And to every performance they always would flock

From Muff down to Paris, Buncrana to Venice

They were fighting to hear him, the Boul' Joseph Locke

The Taxman from England one day he came calling

You've seventeen thousand pound notes for to pay

From the deck of the boat that was sailing to Dublin

Joe sang them goodbye and went sailing away.

Now he's back here among us, may he never go from us

When he gives a performance the people all flock

Up in St Columb's Hall sure no bother at all

To Derry's own Tenor, the Boul' Joseph Locke

Song No. 73

EL SALVADOR

Here in Belfast I'll go in my mind to

El Salvador, El Salvador

It's so far to go but the same things you find in

El Salvador, El Salvador

There's murder, torture, a victims groan, in

El Salvador, El Salvador

And an army that knows no law but its own in

El Salvador, El Salvador

Chorus

They have tanks and gold so bright

And Yanqui soldiers to help in the fight

And death squads that murder and butcher at night

And hide from the light of day

To keep the land free, the government tell in

El Salvador, El Salvador

We're slaughtering workers around San Miguel in

El Salvador, El Salvador

When a child in a village cries for bread in

El Salvador, El Salvador

A Yanqui machine gun decides he's a red in

El Salvador, El Salvador

The Yanqui sends his men and guns to

El Salvador, El Salvador

They lost Vietnam, they want a re-run in

El Salvador, El Salvador

And the Army does what it can Yanquis to please in

El Salvador, El Salvador

But a people united will rise from their knees in

El Salvador, El Salvador

Repeat lines 1 and 2 of Verse 1

Song No. 74

INVISIBLE WOMEN

The singer sings a rebel song

and everybody sings along

Just one thing I'll never understand

Every damn rebel seems to be a man

For he sings of the Bold Fenian Men

& The Boys of the Old Brigade...

What about the women who stood there too

'When history was made' ....?

Ireland, Mother Ireland, with your freedom-loving sons

Did your daughters run and hide at the sound of guns?

Or did they have some part in the fight

And why does everybody try to keep them out of sight

For they sing of the Men of the West

And the Boys of Wexford too....

Were there no women living round those parts

Tell me, what did they do...?

Song No. 75

MOLLY

Molly wakes to church bells ringing and a morning sky

that's dull and grey

On the radio a voice is singing while a voice in her head

begins to say

"I wish I was somewhere else, anywhere would do

China, Jamaica, Pams or Peru..."

She lifts her head from off her pillow and starts

another bloody day

Sitting at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of soggy muesli

She lights a cigarette when she's able and whispers to herself,

why me?

She finds the IRISH TIMES in the hall, by the door

Glances at the headlines, drops it to the floor

The clock is giving out a warning, "You must be on your way."

Thinking of clouds and silver lining, waiting for a Number 31

The sun has decided to be shining and she wonders why her life

isn't fun

She's off to work, she glad to have a job

She can buy new clothes, save a few bob

Molly, are you so unhappy? There's millions worse off than you.

Lunchtime and she says, "Oh Molly, life you know it isn't so bad."

Now she's standing with a supermarket trolley and she wonders if

she's going mad

Suddenly she begins to cry

I don't know the reason so don't ask why

She leaves her shopping standing and takes herself to a bar

The church bells now are booming, shadows will soon be growing tall

She knows that the boss is fuming and glaring at the clock

on the wall

She orders herself just one more glass

In a day or two this mood will pass

It's only been here for ever, it can't last all your life.

Standing in the CREDIT UNION a chill is running thru her bones

Dreaming of a life, a new one, she draws out all she owns

She whispers to herself, "What will me manny say

I don't give a damn, I have to get away."

When she walks off to get her passport, her walk is like a dance

Now let's look at Molly waking in some distant foreign place

With joy my heart is aching for the smile that's on her face

I don't know what happens in a year or two

Molly doesn't care, nor should you

Today her heart is laughing and just for now that'll do.