There’s a voice that keeps a calling from the rubble,
There’s a face that keeps a cryin’ in the flame,
There’s a scarlet empty mist that’s all around you;
Can you tell me still that it’s all just a game?
Did the sleeping child that died laugh with the others?
Did the bullets that hit home fly just for fun?
And those of you who talked
As the gods of hatred walked
Take a look around and see just what you’ve done.

Can you see the burned policeman on the tarmac?
Can you hear the young girl screaming in the throng?
There’s a pregnant mother choking in the teargas.
Can you tell me still that it’s all just a song?
Is the blood that’s pouring just part of tradition?
Is it shining green or orange in the sun?
And those of you who played
While the barricades were made
Take a look around and see just what you’ve done.

And you who cheer your Paisleys and your Devlins,
And you who march so fierce to drum and fyfe,
And those of you who preach and then do nothing;
Can you tell me still that its just part of life.
Do the injured thank you for your brave religions?
Has your courage built the New Jerusalem?
And those of you who smiled
While the petrol bombs were piled
Can you really all take pride in what you’ve done

1968