| Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
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| Wonder who comes off the worse
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| Poor old people mistreating misbelieving
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| I think you’ve been cast by a curse
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| But I don’t want you to die, I can see all the lies
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| There’s nothing there that’s new
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| But there’s still no need to make blind children bleed
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| Even if what you say is true
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| And meanwhile in the aisles of the churches with style
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| They’re singing their songs to the Lord
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| And the preacher’s carping that for failure on earth
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| Heaven will be your reward
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| Poor old Ireland tortured by past and
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| Tarnished by future’s curse
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| Poor old Ireland, poor old planet
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| Poor old universe
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| Oh Ireland your people mean more than the idols
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| You seek to set upon earth
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| And the day that you see that’s the day, that all of your
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| Sadness and sickness will die
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| For the enemy you seek to destroy is not the
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| One who’s causing the pain
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| He’s disguised himself well with his book and his bell but
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| Evil is still his name
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| Poor old Ireland tortured by past and
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| Tarnished by future’s curse
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| Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
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| Wonder who comes off the worse |