Songtexte:
Young Dubliners

: Lift MacCahir Og your face You're brooding o'er you're old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, He sent you to the Fern. Grey said victory

hum no battle drum did sound it's dread tattoo But the Angelus bells o'er the Liffey swell rang out o'er the foggy dew Right proudly high over Dublin

: Paint on ytour nail smells like kerosene Before these blisters we were squeaky clean We were Mr. and Mrs. Butter and Cream Sweet things turn sour honey

: And she was my true love Sent like an angel from above And I believed our love was strong She said farewell, and I was wrong Now she broke my heart

I am here, on a Sunday morning The day that you said you were walkin' away Dyin' here, but I don't want to wake you As long as you're sleeping, you're

Now Rosie, You're losin' the spot, love; The light used to shine in your eye. Now, tell me you haven't stopped dreamin' That you still reach out for the

If they gave you the good life, Would you close your eyes? Would ya lock out the real world, No compromise? You sleep safe tonight. And you believe

Eyes of a child Simple and wild Where did you go? I see pictures of home Where I'm never alone And warmth surrounds me Keeps me whole I'd like to think

Paint on ytour nail smells like kerosene Before these blisters we were squeaky clean We were Mr. and Mrs. Butter and Cream Sweet things turn sour honey