Apparaît dans
Crédits
INTERPRÉTATION
The Pogues
Interprète
Shane MacGowan
Chant
Terry Woods
Cistre
James Fearnley
Accordéon
Jem Finer
Banjo
Darryl Hunt
Basse
Andrew Ranken
Batterie
Philip Chevron
Guitare
Spider Stacy
Tin whistle
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Shane MacGowan
Paroles/Composition
Terry Woods
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Chris Dickie
Ingénierie de prise de son
Dave Jordan
Ingénierie de prise de son
Nick Lacey
Ingénierie de prise de son
Paul Scully
Ingénierie de prise de son
Roy Spong
Ingénierie de prise de son
Steve Lillywhite
Production
Paroles
Oh, farewell you streets of sorrow
And farewell you streets of pain
I'll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slained
Through the last six years I've lived through terror
And in the darkened streets the pain
Oh, how I long to find some solace
In my mind I curse the strain
So farewell you streets of sorrow
And farewell you streets of pain
No, I'll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slain
There were six men in Birmingham
In Guildford there's four
That were picked up and tortured
And framed by the law
And the filth got promotion
But they're still doing time
For being Irish in the wrong place and at the wrong time
In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
In England they'll keep you for seven long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
The coppers need someone and they walk through that door
You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the stinking cell
From wall to wall, and back again
A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused
For the price of promotion and justice to sell
May the judged by their judges when they rot down in hell
You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again
May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
Kicked down and shot in the back of the head
You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a freezing hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again
Counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again
Writer(s): Terry Wood
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com