Belfast To Boston
There are rifles buried in the countryside by the rising of the moon
May they lie there long forgotten till they rust away into the ground
Who will bend this ancient hatred, will the killing to an end
Who will swallow long injustice, take the devil for a countryman
Who will say "this far no further, oh lord, if I die today"
Send no weapons no more money. Send no vengeance across these seas
Just the blessing of forgiveness for my new countryman and me
Missing brothers, martyred fellows, silent children in the ground
Could we but hear them would they not tell us
"Time to lay God's rifle down."
Who will say this far no further, oh Lord, if I die today.
