| My song for you this evening
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| It’s not to make you sad
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| Nor for adding to the sorrows
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| Of this troubled northern land
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| But lately I’ve been thinking
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| And it just wont leave my mind
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| I’ll tell you of two friends one time
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| Who were both good friends of mine
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| Isaac he was Protestant
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| And Sean was Catholic born
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| But it never made a difference
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| For the friendship it was strong
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| And sometimes in the evening
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| When we heard the sound of drums
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| We said it wont divide us We will always be as one
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| There were roses, roses
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| There were roses
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| And the tears of a people ran together
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| It was on a Sunday morning
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| When the awful news came round
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| Another killing had been done
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| Just outside Newry Town
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| We knew that Isaac danced up there
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| We knew he liked the band
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| But when we heard that he was dead
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| We just could not understand
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| The fear it filled the countryside
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| There was fear in every home
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| When late at night a car came
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| Prowling round the Ryan Road
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| A Catholic would be killed tonight
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| To even up the score
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| Oh Christ, it’s young MacDonald
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| They have taken from the door
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| There were roses, roses
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| There were roses
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| And the tears of a people ran together
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| Isaac was my friend he cried
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| He begged them with his tears
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| But centuries of hatred
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| Have ears that do not hear
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| An eye for an eye
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| It was all that filled their minds
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| And another eye for another eye
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| Till everyone is blind
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| Now I don’t know where the moral is Or where this song should end
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| But I wonder just how many wars
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| Are fought between good friends
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| And those who give the orders
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| Are not the ones to die
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| It’s Scott and young MacDonald
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| And the likes of you and I There were roses, roses
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| There were roses
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| And the tears of a people ran together |