Fair Ireland Lyrics - Peter, Paul & Mary

They build bombs and aim their pistols in the shadow of the cross 

And they swear an oath of vengeance to the martyrs they have lost 

But they pray for peace on Sundays with a rosary in each hand 

It's long memories and short tempers that have cursed poor Ireland 

It's long memories and short tempers that have cursed poor Ireland 

We have cousins on the old sod and we don't forget our kin 

From Boston we send more guns and we tell them they can win 

Then we turn back to our green beer and to MacNamaras Band 

It's true friends with false perceptions that have cursed poor Ireland 

True friends with false perceptions that have cursed poor Ireland 

They weave tales of wit and magic and their songs are strong and free 

But they fail to hear each other, prisoners of history 

Orange flags wave for the British to greet the armys clicking heel 

And Irish curse their Irish brother for the altar where they kneel 

And now provoked to greater anger by the distant royal hand 

It's old hatreds and young victims that have cursed poor Ireland 

Old hatreds and young victims that have cursed poor Ireland