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The Men That God Made Mad

Niamh Parsons
Lingua: Inglese


Niamh Parsons


Far far from Clifden's rocky shore o'er the broad Atlantic sea
The Battalion of St. Patrick tired of harsh brutality
No more abuse or bigotry, their angry cry wholehearted
Near Matamoras lives were lost that's when the fighting started

Who were those men, what was the crime
For which their lives were wasted
Did they rob or rape, or was their fate
As the poet once related
Were those great Gaels of Ireland
The men that God made mad
Their wars were never merry
But all their songs were sad

Land of the Free meant liberty to the U.S. Army's Irish
Till James K. Polk he sent them south to civilize the Spanish
In a war to extend slavery and unjust exploitation
They'd not repeat what Cromwell did to their poor Irish Nation

Who were those men, what was the crime
For which their lives were wasted
Did they rob or rape, or was their fate
As the poet once related
Were those great Gaels of Ireland
The men that God made mad
Their wars were never merry
But all their songs were sad

At L'Angustura, Irish blood drenched the sun-baked clay
And Mexico still honours those brave men who died that day
But the worst was yet to come in the hour that war was ended
When General Scott hung the Irishmen to celebrate with vengeance

Who were those men, what was the crime
For which their lives were wasted
Did they rob or rape, or was their fate
As the poet once related
Were those great Gaels of Ireland
The men that God made mad
Their wars were never merry
But all their songs were sad



Pagina principale CCG

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