FAIR IRELAND
(Peter Yarrow/Mike Renshaw)

They build bombs and aim their pistols in the shadow of the cross,
And they swear an oath of vengeance to the martyrs they have lost,
But they pray for peace on Sundays with the rosary in each hand.
It's long memories and short tempers that have cursed poor Ireland.
It's long memories and short tempers that have cursed poor Ireland.

We have cousins on the Ould Sod and we don't forget our kin.
From Boston we send our guns and tell them they can win.
Then we turn back to our green beer and to McNamara's Band.
It's true friends with false perceptions that have cursed poor Ireland.
True friends with false perceptions that have cursed poor Ireland.

Today we have tales of wit and magic and their songs are strong and free,
But they have failed to hear each other, prisoners of history.
Orange flags wave for the British to greet the army's clicking heel.
The Irish curse their Irish brother for the altar where they kneel.
Now provoked to greater anger by the distant royal hand,
It's old hatred and young victims that have cursed poor Ireland.
It's old hatred and young victims that have cursed poor Ireland.

So we are left with retribution. It's the cycle of the damned.
And the hope becomes more distant as the flames of hate are fanned.
Who will listen to the children, for they're taught to take a stand?
They say love and true forgiveness can still heal fair Ireland.
They say love and true forgiveness can still heal fair Ireland.

Only love and real forgiveness can heal fair Ireland.

From peter, Paul and Mary's "Flowers & Stones" CD WB 9 45069-2.

HTML line breaks and capitalization added. --JoeClone, 9-May-02.