Olde Tyme Future

Look up above
What’s there to see
The walls of thine castle
Be gone, we are free
Look all around
Now what’s there to say
Thank Christ for our spirit
We are born on this day
Strange habits of violence
Have come from the past
Gestures of hatred
Natives outcast
The olde tyme future
Is crumbling at last
Now Ireland’s the chooser
And Her’s is the task