Oh, I've seen the phrase on every two-bit button pin and on the lips of every drunk on St. Patrick's Day--but the luck of the Irish, whether in Ireland, or in the countries of the diaspora--Australia the penal colony, England where they were second class citizens, and America where they were hated, feared, their churches burned and their people drafted into wars they had nothing to do with (not unlike the predicament of African Americans in Vietnam)--the luck of the Irish is all bad.
The Luck Of The Irish
John Lennon / Yoko Ono

If you have the luck of the Irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
You should have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was English instead!

A thousand years of torture and hunger
Drove the people away from their land,
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the British brigands!

If you could keep voices like flowers
There'd be shamrocks all over the world.
If you could drink dreams like the Irish streams
Then the world would be high as the mountain of mourn

In the Pool they told us the story
How the English divided the land,
Of the pain, the death and the glory
And the poets of auld Eireland

If we could make chains with the morning dew
The world would be like Galway Bay
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns
The world would be one big Blarney Stone

Why the hell are the English there anyway?
As they kill with God on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the IRA!
As the bastards commit genocide.

Lennon, of course, is an Irish name; at least three of the Beatles--Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison--are/were of Irish descent, and both Lennon and McCartney spoke out against the Troubles during the 1970s. In fact, Lennon donated money to the IRA while it was still more of an activist group than a terrorist organization.


THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
by Gangajang

The luck of the Irish borne of ages past
Has spawned a cruel history, lets hope that luck don't last
It came with the longships and from across the Irish sea
The endless tides of fighting men bought the Ard ris to their knees
Oh the luck of the Irish, Oh the luck of the Irish

Then came the English with their reforming ways
The luck of the Irish bore ample fruit in those days
The land was replanted with the winners of English wars
And the only crops harvested were famine and plague and the odd lost cause
Oh the luck of the Irish, Oh the luck of the Irish

One day things will change and then you know you will see
Just how lucky they can all really be
When the orange and the green meet on the white in between
Oh the luck of the Irish, Oh the luck of the Irish

The luck of the Irish still hangs around their heels
As bombers stop the cities hearts and blood is spilt in the greenest fields
And the orangemen remember, the old horse is yearly shod
To ride again with long dead men and kill or be killed for the one same god.
Oh the luck of the Irish, Oh the luck of the Irish

One day things will change and then you know you will see
Just how lucky they can all really be
When the orange and the green meet on the white in between
Oh the luck of the Irish, Oh the luck of the Irish.

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.