We put up the barricades,
they tore them down again.
We couldn't see for CS gas
through the window pane.
It was August 69, just after the parades.
There were no escapades behind fallen barricades.
Belfast was blasted left right and centre,
then it came.
Internment.
Suspected guilty because of a name.
Out came the bullets and guns.
Our town was torn apart.
We offered up our novenas to the sacred heart.
We kept our faith.
We prayed for peace.
We held up our heads.
Our front door was kicked in.
They dragged us out of our beds.
Snipers perched on the roof tops.
Children played in the street.
Protected by the tapping of a different beat.
We said our prayers and stayed alive. We all grew up fast.
Mixed up in a situation caught up in the past.
Our houses burned around us.
Our graveyards where filled.
War drums have now been beaten;
our blood has since been spilled.
©Copyright 1989 by Paul F. McCann
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-05-28 08:11:07
Last Login: 11.23.08
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