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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The familiar sound of gunshots rings out in the dead of night,as a sniper takes position in the bushes out of sight, Past my front door I hear the sound of many marching feet,as II Para make thier presence felt upon a Belfast street, Gerry Adams does a hard days graft and then it's homeward bound,as a British soldier just nineteen lays wounded on the ground, Well he fought for Queen and country so it comes as no surprise,as he drew his last breath,said a prayer and there a hero dies, So many slain civilians there just casualties of war,do these people even realise what it is they're fighting for? Or has the whole point of it got lost in the mists of time,the I.R.A take credit for thier latest deadly crime, In a safe-house miles from nowhere ther's three loyalists lying dead,one in a grave[he was buried alive]and two with one straight through the head, But the score it was evened before the cock crowed three Catholic civilians were slain,and there's rumours of vengence and fights to the death and calls to keep calm from Sinn Fein, As politicians armed with pens sit counting up lost lives,the Ulster Paramilitary sit sharpening thier knives, And loading slugs into the clip of someone elses gun,cpme on now lads there's dirty deeds awaitin to be done, In Londonderry,County Down,in Belfast,newry too,the catholics and the protestants keep Ireland torn into, as our children grow up in the shadow of fear,there's a stench of death and bloodshen here, So you with the power to give us a chance,let's find a solution and finish the dance, give Ireland back to the Irish....please,or bring the whole damned nation crashing down to its knees.
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