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The Lost Irish

The Lost Irish Came over here in 61' an innocent abroad An Irishman in England another lump of brawn Paddy's on the railways Paddy's on the road Paddy's on the buildings Paddy's on the jar Heard about the tunnels and the men from Donegal From Mayo and from Kerry so I headed to Blackwall Fainted three or four times When I went down there My body could not handle Working in the compressed air Going home, going home, going home, going home Going home, going home, going home, going home Saw the forgotten Irish in many English towns In Manchester and Birmingham in London's Camden Town Faces that were battered By fists and by life Women men pain and sin All their dreams expired For those that kept the faith and straight hard work was their life Building dreams and little teams of London Irish eyes Dreaming of their mothers And the homes they left behind Living dying and denying This will be their life Going home..... Now when they go back home to a country they don't know All of their perceptions and their memories head to toe While Paddy went to build the world The world came to his home And when Paddy's back was turned The Celtic tiger gnawed his bones Now Paddy's on the move again to places far and wide As Ireland's fiscal fantasy crashes and expires But while Paddy waits at the gate For his one way flight It seems that other people think Old Ireland's still got life Going home, going home, going home, going home Going home, going home, going home, going home Going home, going home, going home, going home Going home, going home, going home. Where's home? Words and music by Terence O'Flaherty