I come to this country from a place they call Ireland.
I come with the hope to finally reap what I sow.
My hands, they are strong though they've burned in the fire
and a hard workin' life is all that I've known.
I was born to this world with only one purpose
in a land where the struggle is keep our own home.
Where we work for the Britons, who render our profits
and where our life's only pleasure is not to lay down alone.

Oh, I can remember the green hills a'rollin',
we'd tell them it's our land but they don't hear a thing.
Oh, tonight they might curse me, beat me or rob me
but when I wake in the morning the Irish will sing.

Now my father, he sweated each day of his whole life,
he worked on the land and he met all our needs.
My mother, she never knew nothing about glamour,
just raising my sister and my brother and me.
The house that we lived in was old and unfurnished,
with only two rooms, and it leaked when it rained.
We grew up believing our lives could be better
if we held to the promise that our parents had made.

And often they'd speak of those green hills a'rollin 1,
we tell them it's our land but they don't hear a thing.
Oh, tonight they might curse me, beat me or rob me
but when I wake in the morning the Irish will sing.

My sister got married, but the army took her man.
He never came back and we never knew why.
My brother was a rebel with a pride that ran too high.
He would not bow down to the Britons or a king of their kind.
A union was started at the mill in the city.
He said we must join it to further our cause.
But the strike it was broken when the army was called in
and they through him in the prison under the no union laws.

Now all he can think of are those green hills a'rollin',
he told them it's our land but they don't hear a thing.
Oh, tonight they might curse me, beat me or rob me
but when I wake in the morning the Irish will sing.

Then the fields, they rotted and the crops, they were ruined
and soon we were hungry and with nothing to spare.
My father was so tired he laid down one evening,
with his heart finally broken he died then and there.
We lost almost everything, the Britons did nothing
to help the same people from whom they'd gained their wealth.
The children were dying, mothers were crying
and some thought to leave and somehow save themselves.

But all I can think of are those green hills a'rollin',
we'd tell them it's our land but they don't hear a thing.
Oh, tonight they might curse me, beat me or rob me
but when I wake in the morning the Irish will sing.

So I got on that ship and I sailed 'cross the ocean,
I came to this city in the land of the free.
But the night, it was black and filled with dark notions,
there were no flags a'wavin' and no one to greet me.
I walked through these streets looking for work,
I walked 'til my boby felt like I was dying.
When I came to a man who just stared on right through me,
and a sign on his door that said, "no Irish need apply."

But I still remember those greens hills a'rollin',
we tell them it's our land but they don't hear a thing.
Oh, tonight they might curse me, beat me or rob me
but when I wake in the morning the Irish will sing.


© 1986 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved