Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sonido


Interfaz


Nivel de dificultad


Acento



lenguaje de interfaz

es

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Política de cookies   |   Apoyo   |   FAQ
1
registro de inicio de sesión
Lyrkit

donar

5$

Lyrkit

donar

10$

Lyrkit

donar

20$

Lyrkit

Y/o apoyarme en las redes sociales. redes:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Christy Moore

James Larkin

 

James Larkin

(álbum: Paddy On The Road - 1969)


In Dublin City in 1914 the boss was rich and the poor were slaves
The women working and the children hungry then on came Larkin like a mighty wave
The workers cringed when the boss man thundered seventy hours was their weekly chore
They asked for little and less was granted lest getting little they'd asked for more

Then came Larkin in 1914 a mighty man with a mighty tongue
The voice of labour the voice of justice and he was gifted, he was young
God sent Larkin in 1914 a labor man with a union tongue
He raised the workers and gave them courage he was their hero and a workers son

It was in August the boss man told us no union man for them could work
We stood by Larkin and told the boss man we'd fight or die but we'd never shirk
Eight months we fought eight months we starved we stood by Larkin through thick and thin
But foodless homes and the crying children, they broke our hearts and we could not win

When Larkin left us we seemed defeated the night was black for the working man
But on came Connolly came with new hope and counsel his motto was we'll rise again
In 1916 in Dublin City the English army burnt our town
They shelled the buildings and shot our leaders the harp was buried beneath the crown

They shot McDermott and Pearse and Plunkett they shot McDonagh Ceannt and Clarke the brave
From bleak Kilmanham they took their bodies to Arbour hill to a quicklime grave
Last of all of the seven leaders they shot down James Connolly
The voice of labour the voice of justice gave his life that we might be free

hecho

¿Agregaste todas las palabras desconocidas de esta canción?