Sing Your Song. Dance Your Dance. Tell

The Master Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For The Faith And Dad Says It's A Glorious Thing To Die For Ireland And I Wonder If There's Anyone In The World Who Would Like Us To Live. My Brothers Are Dead And My Sister Is Dead And I Wonder If They Died For Ireland Or For The Faith. Dad Says They Were Too Young To Die For Anything. Mam Says It Was Disease And Starvation And Him Never Having A Job. Dad Says, Och, Angela, Puts On His Cap, And Goes For A Long Walk.

He Says, You Have To Study And Learn So That You Can Make Up Your Own Mind About History And Everything Else But You Can't Make Up An Empty Mind. Stock Your Mind, Stock Your Mind. You Might Be Poor , Your Shoes Might Be Broken , But Your Mind Is A Palace.

When I Act Tough They Listen Politely Till The Spasm Passes. They Know.

Just Let Them Sit In The Goddam Sun. But The World Won't Let Them Because There's Nothing More Dangerous Than Letting Old Farts Sit In The Sun. They Might Be Thinking. Same Thing With Kids. Keep 'em Busy Or They Might Start Thinking.

After A Full Belly All Is Poetry.