The tragedy of being Irish and free
Is now I have to watch them being ripped from me 
And we fought the British for so long 
Because they tried to stifle our song 
Only to realise 
That we were born under rainy skies 
And the famine and the genocide 
As my family dies 
And I stand at the grave
And think of all the people the fight could not save 
As we all hold the weight 
Of some kind of inflicted hate 
That still lives in our bones and blood
And they think they are good 
For daring to trying to quench the light 
Of the good fight 
For growing up on the grass so green 
Celtic and inbetween 
This world and the next 
And the Spanish were shipwrecked 
And now their bloodlines are descended 
We are a conglomeration that has amended
The phrase níos Gaelaí ná Gaeil iad féin 
And there’s something I love about the rain 
And touching down after Arizona 
My God, how I wish I could phone ya 
After our magnificent fight 
The one that set the devil alight 
And he tries to burn me in St. Pat’s 
As the people put out their welcome mats 
To tell me to come home 
And that it’s okay I’m alone 
But I just feel the shaking of the trees 
And the death that’s always on the breeze 
When you grow up under the sky 
Of the memory that cannot lie