| Where John paints in Caribbean colours
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| And Tyrone boys dream of loving on the strand
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| Flowers heaped in gesture on the courthouse steps in Kerry
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| And we trampled on the outstretched hand
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| Roman posters on the wall outside the graveyard
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| «No Divorce» is all they say
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| I saw a little sister of Mercy
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| Invoke the wrath of God on polling day
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| Oh the Island, where Tyrone boys dream of loving on the strand
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| Oh the Island, where we trampled on the outstretched hand
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| The lady sends squaddies on the water
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| Geordie don’t be afraid to die
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| In blackened face he dreams of his darling bairns and hinny
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| On the watchtower overlooking aughnacloy
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| In Long Kesh the Tyrone Boys are dreaming
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| Of making love upon the strand some day
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| On the news came a mid-Atlantic accent
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| Plastic bullet has taken Julie Livingstone away
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| The King he came to see his people
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| And he took a soldier by the hand
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| Eyes averted from the Gloucester Diamond
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| To comfort those who occupy the land
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| High above the clouds a promised heaven
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| On the street a confused and homeless child
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| While men in black declare a social order
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| Frightened women sail to the other side
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| All the young ones are leaving the Island
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| Out the door, down the steps, around the side
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| Unwanted they file through departure lounges
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| Like deportees dispersing far and wide
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| In the distance there’s cricket in Cloughjordan
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| The gentle clack of croquet on the lawn
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| As our children shackled by illegal status
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| Hold their heads down behind the Brooklyn wall |