I'm sick to d**h of apathy...
Nor need your words of sympathy
Just walk a day within my shoes
Understand results, when you lose...
All hope of freedom-justice...gone,
Pride?...A gift that bites the bone
Of contention played upon raw nerves
We love our country and vow to serve
Til freedom rings from British hands
On Irish lips with great demand
For souls that rest...rejoice from grounds
Where spirits sleep, but never sound
Arise poor Bobby and see the day
When Ireland lives for Irish ways
And Brits shake hands, return to us
That which belonged from birth ...because
Its right...by God! The only way
For peace to ring for us this day
What's the difference in sweet sympathy?
When we are restless and you have empathy
Give us support...don't just sit
Ireland for Erin and not the Brits.