Lyrics
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Where The Wild Shamrock Grow
By Will Thorne & Jake Thorne Green were the hills of old county Wexford Black were the chains on Father Murphy, bound Red was the color of the Yeoman butchers This is holy ground From Perth out to Canberra All across Australia You’ll find your sons and daughters where the four winds blow Quebec to Victoria Up north in Canada That’s where you’ll find us where the wild shamrocks grow Green were the valleys stolen from our fathers Black were the praties rotting in the ground Blue was the ocean rolling out to freedom Now tell me Erin’s children where can you be found? Peru to Argentina Down in South America You’ll find your sons and daughters where the four winds blow New YORK to California All across America That’s where you’ll find us where the wild shamrocks grow Green was the flag flying over Dublin Black were the coffins lowered in the ground White were the lilies on that Easter morning Now tell me Erin’s children where can you be found? All the colors fade with time – even the songs may lose their rhyme But the stories must pass down So we’d better pass them on – or soon they will be gone Left there with them in the ground Green were the hills around the road from Mallow Black was the day they shot Mick Collins down Red is the flame that burns for Ireland’s freedom Now tell me Erin’s children where can you be found? The Kings Of Brooklyn
By Will Thorne & Jake Thorne We’re the Kings of Brooklyn We’re the boys who went and built the Brooklyn Bridge - oh We’re the Kings of Brooklyn From Canarsie all the way to Bay Ridge - oh Brick and mortar and steel Saved us from poverty We’re the Kings of Brooklyn We’re the boys who went and built up to the sky - oh We’re the Kings of Brooklyn From Coney Island all the way to Bedford-Stuy With brick and mortar and steel Foundations of liberty I fled from Dublin city in the spring of 21 I landed in Manhattan as a rebel’s son So I made my way out to find a job for me And I found it there in the halls of Tammany They never made me convert They only asked that I get out and vote They made me a sandhog and sent me to dig up the city I’m beating all the odds because I smashed the hand of fate Now I’m standing like a king atop the empire state So I’ll make my way out to find a job for me And I’ll find it there in the halls of Tammany They never made me convert They only asked that I show up to work They made me a Steelman and sent me to build up the city I’m never going home again there’s nothing there for me Ireland’s just a broken painful memory So I’ll stay right here in the land of the free And I’ll find it there in the halls of Tammany They never made me convert They only asked that I get out and vote They made me a copper and sent me to police the city 
Waltz Back To Me
By Will Thorne & Jake Thorne I see by the look on your face that you’re stunned to see A man who you once loved has now returned from the sea I know I’ve hurt you darlin’, and I’ll do my penance until I see You come back a waltzing to me – Kitty Magee You’re the reason a heart beats in me – can’t you see? I – did what I had to do But now, I’m coming home, straight back to you I was a passenger in my own life, just drifting through So how could you love any man til he knew, how to be true? That’s what the ocean gave me, and I’ll do my penance until I see You come back a waltzing to me – Sweet Kitty Magee You’re the reason a heart beats in me – can’t you see? I – did what I had to do But now, I’m coming home, straight back to you I ran away to the sea to find something in me I left as a boy but return as man, hoping to see That you will forgive me darlin’, and I’ll do my penance until I see You come back a waltzing to me – a cuisle mo chroi You’re the reason a heart beats in me – can’t you see? I – did what I had to do But now, I’m coming home, straight back to you California Gold
By Will Thorne I left my home in Donegal in the spring of ’54 The hunger drove me from the hills to Sligo’s rocky shore Where I climbed aboard a coffin ship and sailed across the sea Headed for America, to find my destiny The town of Boston welcomed me with a cold and icy stare "No Irish workers need apply” each sign post would declare So I packed my things to head out west and work upon the rail Just another immigrant along the iron trail And I never knew what it meant to be an Irishman ’til then Carving out a piece of freedom in a foreign land The railway owns my body and the church can have my soul But the future’s mine and shines as bright as California gold As we worked the rail the fella’ standing next to me Extended out his hand and said “hello, my name is Lee” And as I shook his Chinese hand we both began to grin ‘Cuz he was just the same as me, and he’d been where I’d been. And when that final gold spike was driven in the ground And I looked into the Irish faces all around It was was then I knew that we could make it on our own In this land of liberty, we’d finally found our home |
Mother Jones
By Will Thorne & Jake Thorne Barely 5 feet tall – she had no fear at all As she battled against injustice Her children dead and gone - She chose to carry on For the workers that now implored her To fight the fight that she knew was their right Just to live, with some dignity So here’s to the working man, who loves this land, down in his soul Here’s to the railway man, who’s calloused hands are worked to the bone If you’ve got a fair day’s pay and place to stay you can thank Mother Jones She traveled far and wide – across the country side Where ever the struggle took her Irish born and bred - A price upon her head For the hell that she was raising To fight the fight that she knew was our right Just to live, with some dignity So here’s to the workingman, deep in the land, digging for coal Here’s to the factory man, who’s calloused hands are worked to the bone If you’ve got a fair day’s pay and place to stay you can thank Mother Jones In Ludlow’s mining town – they tried to gun us down For standing against injustice From the union halls - through jail house walls Mother Jones told our story for us To fight the fight that she knew was our right Just to live, with some dignity Here’s to the workingman, who loves this land, deep in his soul If you’ve got a fair day’s pay and place to stay you can thank Mother Jones So let’s lift a glass today as we shout hooray for our dear Mother Jones Straight Away
By Will Thorne & Jake Thorne My father left when we were young He left his wife and four wee sons To go and fight for liberty That’s what my mother said to me So I asked my mother dear If he came home to us this year by God’s mercy and his grace would he recognize my face? (and my mother said) He would know you straight away He would know you by your thick black hair, your hungry stare He would know you straight away He would know you by your shoulders wide, like the Shannon’s tide And don’t you look just like him now? You’re the mirror image of him, heaven help me now When I reached my 18th year I saw my future bright and clear To join my father by his side to see our country unified So I made my way to town and began to ask around I found a man who said to me try your luck in Tandragee (and he said) You will know him straight away You will know him by his thick black hair, his mournful stare You will know him straight away You will know him by his shoulders wide, like the Shannon’s tide And don’t you look just like him now? You’re the mirror image of him, heaven help you now In the town of Tandragee I found the man who’d haunted me In an alley by a pub Lying face down in the mud Our mother’d lied to hide our shame the man who’d caused her so much pain never fought for freedom’s flame the drunkard simply ran away Home At My Local
By Jake Thorne Everyone knows an emigration story and mine is better than most It’s the first 18 months that leave you hollow as a ghost. I never thought that this would be my life. I can’t help you understand But after a few I’ll admit I never had a plan But if I were home at my local there’d be Jerry at the taps and Tommy 3 stools down by the door. If I close my eyes for a moment it’s his round and we're slagging like before The knotted grain of the bar, Hurley sticks on the wall and the mismatching tile in the Jacks Now I’m thinking of the old songs of leaving and doubtful I’ll be going back Much as I still miss the old hunts, it’s a bit unsettling to me. To know that if I stayed, exactly where I would be. These yanks all stress about the trivial, and every day I’m just a bit more that way. I believed I was a rock but truth is we’re all mostly clay. My family only knows scattered stories of what I left behind And that feeling of home may only be something in my mind Be Slow To Blame
By Pat MacManus John was born and raised in Derry where he never had a job though jobs were there for others with less skills He met a girl and married, raised a family on the dole and the money that his wife earned in the mill. Then the troubles came and out he went to fight The chance had come to rise above his shame To free himself from misery and find some self respect Be slow to blame you might have done the same Be slow to blame you might have done the same Jim was raised in Belfast City on a street of Micks and Prods Till the troubles came a forced him from his job He saw his home burned down by those who once had been his friends, watched his father beaten by a mod. So he hit out in the only way he knew To get revenge and freedom was his aim With fire and bomb and bullet he set out to destroy Be slow to blame you might have done the same Be slow to blame you might have done the same Joe was brought up in a ghetto in a dirty city slum He had no place to play accept the street His father and his brothers lived in bookies and in pubs while Joe got into trouble with police He was 13 when the riots his the scene At first he looked upon them as a game but now he toats a gun and goes out to play with death Be slow to blame you might have done the same Be slow to blame you might have done the same If the troubles haven't hurt you and your home is safe and sound If the sorrow of Long Kesh has past you by If you haven't lost a loved one and your job is still secure you can spare a thought for other if you try. Put yourself in their position Try to see their point of view Don't rush to point the finger and cry shame Be a little understanding of what they felt they had to do Be slow to blame you might have done the same Be slow to blame you might have done the same |
Turf Fire Liars
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