A great rebel song from Ireland, that's not just about the intolerance the English have for the Irish. It's about all the world, all the problems, the one big problem. The tune is in a minor key, and has the same plodding war-march tempo of When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin, which is appropriate; you can hear the outrage in his voice, especially when he stops the song to say "I hate you," at the end of the third verse. Although it's played on acoustic guitar with what might be an accordion, and a bhodran for percussion, it could be a road march for bagpipes just as easily, wandering slightly but staying strong on the main minor chord of the piece. It's worth a listen, even if you're English.
CHORUS
'Cause any
Mick'll do, any
black, any
Jew
Any poor wee
bugger who's not like you.
They're down from the trees and they're up from the bogs;
They come round here and they steal your job.
They're all the bloody same--just no' the same as you--
And when a
scapegoat's what you need,
any Mick'll do.
Gerry Conlon stood before the jury,
Before the judge in his gown and his wig,
And the whole damn country was sure he was guilty,
Even though the evidence was rigged.
And when it all came out, it was the old familiar shout:
"He'll be guilty of something, sure as hell!"
What's a Paddy more or less? And anyway, he confessed,
Stick him down in his cell, and his father as well
CHORUS
They told Annie Maguire she was a bomber,
She heard every expert witness testify
That they'd found traces of gelignite upon her hands,
And British justice would not be denied.
And when they found they were wrong, it was the same old song:
"She's a danger to us all if she's free."
With every day that goes by, we're more committed to the lie,
So just leave her be and throw away the key
CHORUS
I hate every Jew who kicks a Palestinian,
And every Nazi who ever kicked a Jew
I hate every stupid bigoted opinion
And if you don't hate them too, then I hate you.
But what I hate most of all is the sheer damned gall
Of a system that never thinks twice
About furthering a grudge with a jury and a judge
And when they're loading the dice, tell me who pays the price?
CHORUS, x2
--Brian McNeill