From Some Time in New York City (1972) by John Lennon

The Luck of the Irish (Lennon) - 2:59

If you have the luck of the irish,
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
You shold have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was
English instead!

A thousand years of torture and hunger

Drove the people away from their land,
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the british brigands! Goddman!
Goddman!

If you could keep voices like flowers
There'd be aharmock all over the world.
If you could drink dreams
Like the irish streams

Then the world would be high
As the mountain of morn

In the Pool they told us the story
How the english divided the land,
Of the pain, the death and the glory
And the poets of auld Eireland

If we could make chains with the morning dew
The world would be like gateway Bay
Let's walk over rainbows like leprechauns
The world would be one big Blarney stone

Why the hell are the English there anyway?
As they kill with god on their side!
Blame it all on the kids and the IRA!
As the bastards commit genocide Aye! Aye!
Genocide!

If you had the luck of the Irish
You should have the luck of the Irish
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
And you'd wish you were english instead!
Yes you'd wish you was english instead!!