On the motorway just the other night,
Some lights were flickering off to my right,
My little son sitting by my side,
Asked "are those fairy lights for Christmas time."
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
It is a time for festivity,
For party games and our families,
But many homes are sad tonight,
They whisper someones name by the candlelight.
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
'Tis the season of goodwill,
And here in Ireland we believe that still,
I hate no man for his faith or creed,
We only want our sons and our daughters free.
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
When you grow up son, to be a man,
You will inherit a better land,
With peace and joy let our country ring,
You'll never have to hear your children sing:
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
Some lights were flickering off to my right,
My little son sitting by my side,
Asked "are those fairy lights for Christmas time."
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
It is a time for festivity,
For party games and our families,
But many homes are sad tonight,
They whisper someones name by the candlelight.
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
'Tis the season of goodwill,
And here in Ireland we believe that still,
I hate no man for his faith or creed,
We only want our sons and our daughters free.
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
When you grow up son, to be a man,
You will inherit a better land,
With peace and joy let our country ring,
You'll never have to hear your children sing:
Those are not lights for a Christmas tree,
That's dark Long Kesh son, you'll grow to see,
That Christmas cheer does not mean a thing,
In the Gaelic in Armagh or a H-Block wing.
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