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