Liam's Patriot Game
Susan Lohr
Come all ye young rebels,
And list while I sing;
Behold Liam Clancy ---
What a terrible thing!
His voice it is fading
His guitar hand is lame,
With his passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He showed us great promise
At the age of nineteen;
Such a talented young man
Has rarely been seen.
But the theater's abandoned,
He's not been the same,
Since somebody taught him
The Patriot Game.
Alone on the stage,
In the bright spotlights' glow,
He seems to be puzzled
But audiences know
The tune that's forthcoming ---
It's always the same:
"He's going to give us
The Patriot Game!"
The policemen of Ulster
Are savage and cruel;
One Paddy for breakfast
Has long been the rule.
Perhaps they will catch him,
Perhaps they can tame
His passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He sought out the old songs
In valley and glen;
It seems that he never
Will do it again.
Years hence on his tombstone
We'll carve but his name,
And the words, "Died of singing
The Patriot Game."
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Liam's Patriot Game
Susan Lohr
Come all ye young rebels,
And list while I sing;
Behold Liam Clancy ---
What a terrible thing!
His voice it is fading
His guitar hand is lame,
With his passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He showed us great promise
At the age of nineteen;
Such a talented young man
Has rarely been seen.
But the theater's abandoned,
He's not been the same,
Since somebody taught him
The Patriot Game.
Alone on the stage,
In the bright spotlights' glow,
He seems to be puzzled
But audiences know
The tune that's forthcoming ---
It's always the same:
"He's going to give us
The Patriot Game!"
The policemen of Ulster
Are savage and cruel;
One Paddy for breakfast
Has long been the rule.
Perhaps they will catch him,
Perhaps they can tame
His passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He sought out the old songs
In valley and glen;
It seems that he never
Will do it again.
Years hence on his tombstone
We'll carve but his name,
And the words, "Died of singing
The Patriot Game."
Susan Lohr
Come all ye young rebels,
And list while I sing;
Behold Liam Clancy ---
What a terrible thing!
His voice it is fading
His guitar hand is lame,
With his passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He showed us great promise
At the age of nineteen;
Such a talented young man
Has rarely been seen.
But the theater's abandoned,
He's not been the same,
Since somebody taught him
The Patriot Game.
Alone on the stage,
In the bright spotlights' glow,
He seems to be puzzled
But audiences know
The tune that's forthcoming ---
It's always the same:
"He's going to give us
The Patriot Game!"
The policemen of Ulster
Are savage and cruel;
One Paddy for breakfast
Has long been the rule.
Perhaps they will catch him,
Perhaps they can tame
His passion for singing
The Patriot Game.
He sought out the old songs
In valley and glen;
It seems that he never
Will do it again.
Years hence on his tombstone
We'll carve but his name,
And the words, "Died of singing
The Patriot Game."