Kilmaine Saints - 57 | Текст песни

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• Kilmaine Saints
• 57

From generation to generation
the tales been passed down
Of the poor lost souls who wander about town
Their ragged clothes & the holes in their shoes
Their straggly hair and wreaking of booze
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These brave 57 left from Donegal Bay
A boat load of Paddys come to work the railway
Leaving their families, not a shilling in hand
Unwanted men in a foreign land
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CHORUS
So sip your pint and I’ll tell you a tale
Of the brave 57 from Donegal set sail
Twas not the disease but rather the hate
At Duffy’s Cut where they met their fate
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Resented and hated
they broke through the stone
A little for whiskey & the rest they sent home
Each day they worked the trench
through the rain and the mud
They lined the walls with
their sweat and their blood
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How the tale ends was never quite clear
Locals in town tried to wipe out the fear
No doctor could save them nor did they try
Cuz the signs had all read
“The Irish need not apply”
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And one by one the souls were laid to rest
As history hides the lies they wouldn’t confess
Ghosts of the past were butchered for what
Those brave 57 murdered at Duffy’s Cut