Текст песни Smoke & Strong Whisky - Christy Moore

Kids wear white garters, and smell like their mothers
Whose husbands and fathers alike
Drink black beer in the same public houses
Smelling of smoke and strong whiskey.

Mammies and daddies, skipping ropes
Lectures from priests, living in hope
That they've not mistaken the brand of their coats
They've paid for by spiritual teachings.

A busy year this, streets running red
How many sent to their nuptial bed
How many sent home to a winter of graves
How many wait in for the slaughter.

It's Easter again, and we cannot forget
Our brothers and sisters and all that was said
So practise your pipes, stand proud in the wet.
For the eyes of the world are upon you.

Oh, oh, the holy ground
Céad míle failte, there's saints and there's scholars to see
Oh, oh, the holy ground
Faraway hills ain't as green as they once used to be

Seventeen years, Kelly is a man
Who stands on the street with a gun in his hand
He's protecting the pipers that play in the band
While the enemy waits with an army.

God in his mercy has given us men
To lead us to peace but they can't bring an end
To the profits that pay off the lease on the land
We're still sending them over the water

Dia le hÉireann, suckle the empire.
Dia le hÉireann, suffer the loss.
Of the green and the blue while the media feeds
On the blood and the pain and the hatred.

Father walks home on a colourless night
The organisation has blinded his sight
His wife and his kids are sleeping tonight
In the arms of sweet Jesus and Mary.

Oh, oh, the holy ground
Céad míle failte, there's saints and there's scholars to see
Oh, oh, the holy ground
Faraway hills ain't as green as they once used to be

Oh, oh, the holy ground
Céad míle failte, there's saints and there's scholars to see
Oh, oh, the holy ground
Faraway hills ain't as green as they once used to be