You dragged your hand along the stones
A beautiful day, an old tablet
And then you stopped, and then you stared
At the holes in the walls
You chucked your fingers in the cracks
Set in by the meek of it all
Who fought with bayonets and guns
They died in these streets
And their blood's on the streets of Dublin
land we shall heed the call
that's worth fighting for
Our fate is war or genocide
Rise up and be proud, no longer we'll fall
And we'll for Thor be driven,
So realize the souls, of the 500 dead
They'll die in the streets,
for the peace yet to come
And their blood's on the streets
And their blood's on the streets of town
Armored men can never kill or jail
A war born of hateful sin
On a beautiful day in this old town
Who fought with bayonets and guns
And the day in the streets
And their blood's on the streets of Dublin
So here lie the souls of five hundred dead
Fought with their bayonets and guns
And they die in the streets
And their blood's on the streets of Dublin