As down the glen one Easter morn

To a city fair rode I

When Irelands line of marching men in squadrons passed me by…

NO PIPE DID HUM NO BAAAAATLE DRUM

Did sound its dread tattoo :pint:

What a song… This should be played in dressing rooms up and down the country with the base turned up to max.

With this in the headphones and my lunchtime nutribullet slowly entering my veins I am going to ascend up through the ceiling shortly

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13MQFCfCYdQ

greatest.version.ever

[QUOTE=“scumpot, post: 1040776, member: 182”]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13MQFCfCYdQ

greatest.version.ever[/QUOTE]

Luke Kelly version is better.

Lukes version, prefer Sinead’s personally. Smashing video mind.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b605qq7xBzM

Gotta go with Luke.

[QUOTE=“scumpot, post: 1040776, member: 182”]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13MQFCfCYdQ

greatest.version.ever[/QUOTE]
O Connor looks tremendous in that video, she was some bit of gear in her day.

I can’t think of any song where it isn’t

Anthony Kiedis was obsessed with her for ages he begged her for sex! :confused::smiley:

He must have been fairly sick to hear she let John Waters seed her

And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through,
While Britannia’s huns with their long range guns, sailed in through the foggy dew

:clap:

[QUOTE=“myboyblue, post: 1040807, member: 180”]Lukes version, prefer Sinead’s personally. Smashing video mind.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b605qq7xBzM
[/QUOTE]

Why does this version omit the most the important line?

Oh had they died by Pearse’s side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35CBWwy98nc

Signing in. Up the ra and up Ireland.

MUP ta FOOK!

Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia’s Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew

T’was Britannia bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves or the fringe of the Great North Sea
Oh, had they died by Pearse’s side or fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we will keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew

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