RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: HISTORY
Belfast
Belfast in the time of the troubles
A city torn by religious divide
Catholics uprooted from their homes
For the crime of being on the other side
‘twas a time of great upheaval
‘twas a time of shameful pride
Not a place to raise a child
Explosions of needless violence
Entire neighborhoods run wild
Yet people danced and sang and played
As if they knew their chosen fate
They went on their merry way
Until the gods let down the weight
And scattered them both near and far
Excepting those who chose to stay
To suffer all the days of sorrow
Till the troubles went away
And here’s to old Fitzgerald
And here’s to young O’Shea
Let us bow our heads and pray
They did not die in vain
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