THE POLITICIAN
‘Tis a pleasant country, Ireland, far surpassing many climes,
And a peaceful place in general, except at election times,
When some fellow gives a broadcast of the other fellow’s crimes,
And his listeners bid goodbye to law and order.
Then the Fenians up in Belfast raise the war flag in the Falls,
And the Orange “No Surrender” rings again from Derry Walls,
And your dream of peace is shattered by a thousand ugly brawls,
And the Politician blames it on the Border.
Through the length and breadth of Ireland then, you hear a mighty shout
‘Tis the Politicians ordering the clans to turn out,
Some calling for a chosen few to hold the last redoubt,
While others shout for men to smash Partition.
And you neighbour Tim McGourley ups and tosses off his coat,
And blacks your eye, to make you see the way you ought to vote,
Then a big policeman swipes him, poor old Tim has been the goat,
But no one ever swipes the Politician.
Then they say “Be Patriotic, go defy the tyrant’s might”,
We are here behind your back to shout “May God defend the right,
You’re a worker and an Irishman, it’s up to you to fight
And give your life, if needed, for the Sireland.”
I don’t want to die for Ireland, either North, South, East or West
At the word of Politicans – walking windbags at the best
I’m a tired, broken worker and I only want to rest
In a quiet spot, in any part of Ireland.
When the waters of the Lagan make their journey to the sea,
They can mingle with the Liffey, and it’s very strange to me,
If the chap I went to school with and myself could not agree
If left alone to work our own salvation.
For the God that made the Fenian made his Orange neighbour, too,
But he didn’t give them emblems of Orange, Green and Blue,
But the Politicians thought it was a clever thing to do,
It has been the curse of Ireland as a nation.
Oh, you working men of Ireland; it is time you came awake,
Unite and get together, for your own and Ireland’s sake,
Your fathers followed blindly, and have paid for their mistake,
Their disunion was the Mother of Partition.
And if the border should become a case of Pounds and d,
To find a way of scrapping it, I’m sure you can agree,
But before you scrap the border, take this advice from me –
Go out and scrap our friend – the Politician.