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The Black and Tans a G
I was born in a Dublin street, where the royal drums do beat,
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and the loving english feet, they tramped all over us,
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and each day and every night, when my father'd come home tight,
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he'd invite the neighbours outside with his chorus:
Oh, come out, you Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell them how the I.R.A. made you run like hell away, from the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra. Oh, come tell us how you show them poor Ashlon two by two, like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows. How you bravely faced each one, with your sixteen - powder - gun and you frightened them poor natives to their marrows. Oh, come let me hear you tell, how you shamed the brave Parnell, when you thought him well and truely persecuted. Where are all the speers and jeers, that you bravely let us hear, when our heroes of sixteen were executed. Oh, come out, you Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man. Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders. Tell them how the I.R.A. made you run like hell away, from the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra.
Worte & Weise irisches Wiederstandslied | ||
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