Bullhead

The scraps lay scattered on the floor

70 days had been ignored

The people wake as a martyr goes to sleep

His figure frail of 7 stone

A fire fights beneath his bones

"I will not die after you bury me"

If my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free

If my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free

A poet and a scholar of his day

Commandant of the Cork Brigade

His friends and foes revered him just the same

The crown then feared his influence

His threatening wit and intellect

So they locked him up in a Brixton prison cage

No tank or gun or brick or bullet or stone

Could turn a rebel mind on their own

"Should my death do more than my release

Then let me die in chains

If it brings the enemy to his knees

It's not who can inflict the most

But who can most endure

That in 100 years will see their children free"

1920, Hallow's Eve

100 000 filled the streets

A procession flowed beside the river Lee

A nation lost her rebel son

But the bells of freedom would be rung

The truce was signed in 1921

And the cheers of the world would echo from afar

Never underestimate a rebel heart

The scraps lay scattered on the floor

70 days had been ignored

The people wake as a martyr goes to sleep

His figure frail of 7 stone

A fire fights beneath his bones

"I will not die after you bury me"

If my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free

If my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free

And if my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free

If my will is the wind, then I will die willing and free