The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #81593 Message #1495519
Posted By: GUEST
29-May-05 - 12:50 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Terrorist or Dreamer (Mick Hanly)
Subject: Lyr Add: TERRORIST OR DREAMER?
TERRORIST OR DREAMER?
In [G] Sackville Street the [C] curfew drove the [D] restless [G] inside.
The [C] Black and Tans marched [G] up and [Em] down, the [Am] moon shone cold and [C] bright.
The [G] shot was like a [C] whip crack – pulled the [D] first man off his [G] feet.
He [C] died on bloody [G] cobble[Em]stones while his [Am] comrades combed the [C] street.
They [G] called up rein[C]forcements, woke the [D] people from their [G] beds.
They were [C] screaming "[G] Get the [Em] bastard!", but its [Am] fear was in their [C] heads.
They found him in a cellar. He was only seventeen,
Fighting for his country, dying for the green.
The sergeant dragged him by the hair and beat him to the ground.
Into this young man's body he emptied every round.
"Come out and take a look", he cried as he marched his troops away.
They went in stony silence – such a prize to have today!
Some knelt and prayed beside him, ah, but it's too late anyhow.
They said he was a rebel then – and he's a hero now.
In '66 this country sang the praises of the dead.
We didn't call them rebels then. We used 'patriot' instead.
On every household TV screen we saw how hard they fought,
How they spilled their life's blood and how freedom had been bought.
The garden gates were opened up to silent motorcades.
Cannons boomed and flags unfurled and solemn wreaths were laid.
Prayers for those departed were called for loud and clear,
For those who had been outlawed – ah, but that was another year.
The veterans stood up stiff and proud. Their white hair ruled the wind,
With their pride __________ and thoughts upon their friends,
And bitter wounds burst open, the scars of history,
Went flying into our faces in stark reality.
Just up the road from Sackville Street, ah, but things are different now.
They said he was a rebel then but he's a hero now.
Along the Falls Road soldiers push - their glances left and right.
Kids of the English working class, soldiers overnight,
Tossed into the melting pot of bloody war and strife,
Never understanding and fearing for their lives.
Outside the Glenn Road Brewery, a bomb takes two away.
The bomber's work is over; he's finished for the day.
The terrorist or the dreamer? The savage or the brave?
It depends who ________ try to catch, his face shown trying to save.
There's tea and cakes in Downing Street. There's whispers in the halls.
Let's move to cure Rhodesia, now our backs are to the wall.
There's panic down in Leinster House where words are seldom scarce:
"Send someone to Glasnevin quick to remember Padraig Pearse!"
Once more His crucifixion, it seems a lie somehow.
They said he was a rebel then – but he's a hero now.
Once more His crucifixion, it seems a lie somehow.
They said he was a rebel then – but he's a hero now,
But he's a hero now.