THE BLITZ

My name is Sammy Thompson and the place of my abode

Is the grandest place in Belfast, the good old Shankhill Road.

I stay in bed on Sunday and leave Church to them it fits

And I never trucked with Fenians, till Hitler sent the Blitz.

I mind the night he came to us, ‘twas tough, I’m telling you,

I was down in Billy Johnston’s pub, and I had a pint or two,

We heard the siren going and says Billy, “ Sam, my son,

I think you should be blowing if you want to see the fun.”

Don’t think that I was breezy I was nothing of the kind.

I had often fought the Fenians, I could beat the beggers blind.

So I stepped out right an’ manly till I heard an awful crack,

Then I made for home like blazes and never once looked back.

The slates and glass was flying, there were other things, you know,

That would mind you of the rivets the Islandmen would throw.

I was fair done out with running at my heart I took a pain

So I cursed the Pope in case I wouldn’t get the chance again.

I shouted “ No Surrender, “ I had not the slightest doubt

But that some among the Germans would recognise that shout.

But they never seemed to notice the bombs fell thick and fast.

I’ve a notion there were Fenians in that lot that strafed Belfast.

When at last I reached the Shankhill I was in a proper funk.

I found the house deserted and the wife had done a bunk

I besought the Glorious Memory in my misery and gloom

And remembered that the Lodge’s flag was in the wee back room.

I had a job before me then, in sowl,it was no joke

I would have to save the banner should Belfast go up in smoke.

So I grabbed it up and started out to find a safer spot,

When a brick or something hit me and I thought I had been shot.

I knew I would be safe if I could reach the Orange Hall,

And that’s where I was going when I had this nasty fall

When I regained my senses the worst had come to pass,

I was in a Papish Chapel, where the Fenians go to Mass !

‘Twas then I thought about my flag, and started looking round,

In a corner of the Chapel was the colours safe and sound

But a miracle had happened for when daylight came I seen

The good old orange banner had got streaked with white and green.

I went home and left the turncoat flag, outside the Chapel walls,

I heard a Fenian lifted it and took it to the Falls.

And when the Missus saw me she had seven kinds of fits –

She had hoped she was a widow and was thankful for the Blitz.