My name’s James Michael Ryan and in Southie I was born
Named after that great man who once made Boston town his own
My father came from Kerry and my mother from Mayo
And I longed to see the land they left so many years ago
My father always told me that he’d take me there some day
But I was only seventeen on the night he passed away
He took one bullet in the leg and another in the jaw
Killed in the line of duty, in the sеrvice of the law
He always said I should bе proud to be an Irishman
That I should never be put down by any other man
And in his will he set aside some money, just for me
To travel back to Ireland when I would reach eighteen
I read every Irish book I found as my excitement grew
I read about 1916 and the treaty in ’22
When the plane touched down on Irish soil, I said a silent prayer
And I thought about my father and I wished that he was there
Those first few days In Kerry they were like a dream come true
I’d never seen fields so green or even skies so blue
My cousins made me welcome and they took me all around
And we laughed about our accents and the funny way we sound
Then one evening in a pub where we’d been drinking all the day
Somebody asked me what I thought about the IRA
I said that 1922 was when it all began
When Collins signed the treaty that divided up the land
Then someone said that I’d some nerve to say a thing like that
And what the hell would I know, I was just a Yankee brat
I told him I was Irish and as good a man as he
I’d a right to my opinion and that he need not agree
For a moment there was silence, then a glass fell to the floor
Then someone shouted “Bloody Yank” as he pushed me out the door
Now I’m not sure what happened next, I was in a blinding rage
But I left him in a pool of blood when the crowd pulled me away
My cousins said next morning, that it wasn’t wise to stay
And if that other man should die, I’d be surely sent to jail
So, against my will, they put me on the first plane going home
For to run away is something that I’d never done before
Now, I’m a cop in Boston like my father was before
Like him, I don’t think I’ll be back in Ireland anymore
But there’s two great Irish nations though, 3000 miles they span
And though I’m across the ocean I am still an Irishman
Named after that great man who once made Boston town his own
My father came from Kerry and my mother from Mayo
And I longed to see the land they left so many years ago
My father always told me that he’d take me there some day
But I was only seventeen on the night he passed away
He took one bullet in the leg and another in the jaw
Killed in the line of duty, in the sеrvice of the law
He always said I should bе proud to be an Irishman
That I should never be put down by any other man
And in his will he set aside some money, just for me
To travel back to Ireland when I would reach eighteen
I read every Irish book I found as my excitement grew
I read about 1916 and the treaty in ’22
When the plane touched down on Irish soil, I said a silent prayer
And I thought about my father and I wished that he was there
Those first few days In Kerry they were like a dream come true
I’d never seen fields so green or even skies so blue
My cousins made me welcome and they took me all around
And we laughed about our accents and the funny way we sound
Then one evening in a pub where we’d been drinking all the day
Somebody asked me what I thought about the IRA
I said that 1922 was when it all began
When Collins signed the treaty that divided up the land
Then someone said that I’d some nerve to say a thing like that
And what the hell would I know, I was just a Yankee brat
I told him I was Irish and as good a man as he
I’d a right to my opinion and that he need not agree
For a moment there was silence, then a glass fell to the floor
Then someone shouted “Bloody Yank” as he pushed me out the door
Now I’m not sure what happened next, I was in a blinding rage
But I left him in a pool of blood when the crowd pulled me away
My cousins said next morning, that it wasn’t wise to stay
And if that other man should die, I’d be surely sent to jail
So, against my will, they put me on the first plane going home
For to run away is something that I’d never done before
Now, I’m a cop in Boston like my father was before
Like him, I don’t think I’ll be back in Ireland anymore
But there’s two great Irish nations though, 3000 miles they span
And though I’m across the ocean I am still an Irishman
( Robbie OConnell )
www.ChordsAZ.com