The Irish Dream was broken
When a man without a name
Was murdered by others unknown
Found by, when home he came
His neighbour who never met him
For those cold stone walls
Are more effective than Checkpoint Charlie
As one to his neighbour never calls.
And from a red coroners coffin
Open â€“ the corpse not hid
A journalist looked on a dead man
Before he was covered by the lid
And from behind his closed door
Shaking, he heard the coffin screws
Close the lid on his neighbour
What a way your life to lose
Unknown to another
Separated by stone walls
The Irishman ignored his fellow man
Yet, a Christian himself he calls.
Oh, oh, the shock the horror,
That such a man could die
Unknown and alone
We wring our hands and ask why…?
Probably a party
Boisterous, too much booze
The way you live is how you die
Its up to you to choose
Those who walk past the public house
Refused to integrate
By wasting their money in a pub
They donâ€™t contribute to the state
This man of books and education
Does not seem to understand
This man is from the underclass
That powers our New Ireland.
An Irishman beside him works
The same hours each day
The Slovak works as hard as he,
But earns half the pay.
And of his little wages
Pays the same as an Irishman for his flat
But our college educated pal
Seems not to know of that.
When youâ€™ve worked hard for what youâ€™ve got
You wonâ€™t throw it all away
The Slovak works to go home
To a better future someday.
Sure, the Irishman in England
Worked hard, and drank all as a rule
Such waste leads to such want
We should not praise a fool.
Let us look to our neighbour
Call in a couple of nights
Be a friend in a cold hard world
Help a man fight for his rights.
Once upon a time Christ lived
And died in an apartment alone
Ignored by his fellow man
Who failed to call or phone.
For Christ that day was that Slovak
For once upon a time he did decree
â€œAs you treat the least of these, my brothers:
That way you treat me!