(Christy Moore)
Chorus:
Oh the island
Where Tyrone boys dream of loving on the strand
Oh the island
Where we trampled on the outstretched hand
Where John paints in Caribbean colours
And Tyrone boys dream of loving on the strand
Flowers heaped in gesture on the court-house steps in Derry
And we trampled on the outstretched hand
Roman posters on the wall outside the graveyard
'No Divorce' is all they say
I saw a little Sister of Mercy
Invoke the wrath of God on polling day
The Lady sends the squaddies on the water
Geordie don't be afraid to die
In blackened face he dreams of his darlin' bairns and hinnie
On the watchtower overlooking Aughnacloy
In Long Kesh Tyrone boys are dreaming
Of making love upon the strand some day
On the news comes a mid-Atlantic accent
And a bullet has taken Julie Livingstone away
When the King came down to see his people
He took a soldier by the hand
With his eyes averted from the Gloucester Diamond
To comfort those who occupy the land
High above the clouds a promised heaven
On the street a confused and homeless child
While men in black declare a social order
Frightened women sail to the other side
All the young ones are leaving the island
Out the door, down the steps, around the side
Unwanted, they file through departure lounges
Like deportees dispersing far and wide
To the distant sound of cricket in Cloughjordan
And the gentle clack of crochet on the lawn
Our children shackled by a legal status
Hold their heads down behind the Brookland wall