Boots or No Boots Lyrics

Maybe it’s Because I’m an Irish Londoner

Lyrics: Ronan

A statement of pride in being from London of Irish descent.

 No matter where in Ireland your heritage lies there’s a pride in being from your home town.

 The traditions and feelings run deep in the Irish communities around the UK

 this fact should be celebrated, although all too often it is dismissed by the Ireland-born Irish.

 A pun on an old cockney song ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a Londoner.’

Ronan

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

Maybe that’s what makes me what I am

You can hear it in my accent when I talk

I’m a proud London Irish man

All you Harrow Hooligans stand up & say ‘Hello’

Don’t matter if your father is from Galway or Mayo

Or if you’re Kilkenny, Tipperary or Tyrone

Proud London Irish Boys

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

Maybe that’s what makes me what I am

You can hear it in my accent when I talk

I’m a proud London Irish man

In the Old Crown Hayes Town where Paddy used to Roam

The Celtic Boys in Morgans where You’ll Never Walk Alone

In and out the pubs all along the Uxbridge Rd

All proud London Irish Boys

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

Maybe that’s what makes me what I am

You can hear it in my accent when I talk

I’m a proud London Irish man

When it comes to saying who you are it’s all about the Blood

When it comes to where you’re from then don’t forget your neighbourhood

The streets & the churches & the pubs in where you stood

With your proud London Irish Boys

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

(Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner)

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

(Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner)

Maybe it’s because I’m an Irish Londoner

Maybe that’s what makes me what I am

You can hear it in my accent when I talk

I’m a proud London Irish man

　

Clew Bay Pirates

Lyrics: Enda

A song written by Enda about modern myths and legends from his home town of Mulranny, Co.Mayo.

 Let’s just say a good seafood dinner doesn’t always have to cost a fortune when you live on the coast!

The Pirate Queen old Grainne Uaile used rule the ancient seas.

And plunder riches wealth and Gold from Ireland’s enemies

A tyrant of the merchant ships she pioneered a style

Among the islands plentiful and the Irish mist she’d hide.

Down through the generations since that golden age ‘till now

The devils own disciples seemed to linger on somehow

Be careful if you trawl the coast and nets at sea you lay.

For there’s highway men in Ireland and there’s pirates in Clew bay.

No swashbuckling heros charge

No jolly rogers fly

No Wooden leg or parrots perched

No patch upon one eye.

But forgotten villains way of old have never gone away, for..

There’s highway men in Ireland

And there’s pirates in Clew Bay.

And although your fish are plentiful for the waters can provide

Be wary of the hungry men who will plunder in the night

The Wanderly and Tommy Joe will fill their oyster bag

And the only thing you’re left with, bottles and crippled crabs.

Now tales of plundering pillage are a part of history

Round Mayo’s coast for centuries the scourge upon our seas.

The protégé’s of ancient arts, that once was grainne uaile

There’s highway men in Ireland

And there’s pirates in Clew Bay.

No swashbuckling heros charge

No jolly rogers fly

No Wooden leg or parrots perched

No patch upon one eye.

But forgotten villains way of old have never gone away, for..

There’s highway men in Ireland

And there’s pirates in Clew Bay.

　

Mayo Moon

Lyrics: Enda

An Enda Mulloy song written in the traditional ballad style.

A story of love, heartache and tragedy, all the right ingredients for classic Irish song.

Ronan

‘Neath the moonlight where we used to walk, I left you standing there

By the river mouth there by the sea, I left you alone,

And I could swear that my sorrow you could see from my shadow,

so I ran all alone in the dark

By the bright moonlit ocean, I gazed to my fortune

that awaits me in far off New York.

Now the Coffin ship waits by the quay, to take me away from here

As the hungry march up the gangway, there’s an ache in my heart.

So farewell to her waters, her sons and her daughters,

my friends and the girl that I left.

In our cabin so cold, cry the young and the old,

where I lay in the damp and I slept.

And I dreamt that we met by the side of your ocean,

and we talked about the days gone by

Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well, ‘till we meet again,

and we’ll walk ‘neath a Mayo moon.

Tossed is the wreck by the storm, the water is creeping in

And our sails have been ripped from the mast, the journey is o’er.

How this wreck could survive the treacherous tide

and the broad western ocean to cross

With no land for to guide, on the waters so wide,

by the devil we’ll surely be lost.

And I dreamt that we met by the side of your ocean,

And we talked about the days gone by

Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well, ‘till we meet again,

and we’ll walk ‘neath a Mayo moon.

The sickness has ravaged the boat, and the bodies lay all around

And the dead we have buried at sea, though their ghosts linger on.

And I pray to the lord that my soul to him walks

when my body consigns to the deep

As the boat slips down under, my minds final wander

so I close my eyes and I sleep

And I dreamt that we met by the side of your ocean

and we talked about the days gone by

Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well, ‘till we meet again

Till then I’ll walk ‘neath a Mayo moon.

Yes we’ll walk ‘neath a Mayo moon.

　

　

Lash in The USA

Lyrics: Ronan/Enda/Andy

As Enda once put it in an onstage intro to the song

“This song is about when we went on the beer in America, it’s called Going on the Lash in the USA!”

 … I don’t think anyone can describe it any more accurately than that.

Ronan

Plane touches down at JFK

Going on the lash in the USA

The cab’s pedal to the metal, boy, all the way

Going on the lash in the USA

Straight to Rocky Sullivans & straight on the beer

We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here

The jukebox won’t stop Chris won’t stop throwing out the beer

　

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

I can’t see straight trying to play

Going on the lash in the USA

We’re taking Johnny Donnelly, we’re leading him astray

Going on the lash in the USA

Straight up to Yonkers & onto McLean

pub crawling out in the pouring rain

The Black47 boys rockin’ the Bronx once again

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Thornton & Loftus from London Town

Zolasko & Connollys, Chicago South

Hanleys from Woodlawn all Mayo bound

Shane from the Baggott sort the late one out

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

Going on the lash in the USA

　

　

The Cinderella Man

Lyrics: Andy

When the Great Depression hit the US in the 1930's-

the country's most desperate time in it's history-

an Irish American boxer was The Heavyweight Champion of the World!

New Jersey fighter James Braddock fought his way out of adverse poverty-

driven by his love for his family, determined to find a way out of their desperate situation.

 He carried the hopes of an entire nation on his shoulders inspiring

the poorest of the poor to believe in and be part of his dream!

On June 13th 1935 he defied all odds and defeated the legendary

Max Baer to win the Heavyweight Championship of the World!

Andy

New Jersey, fall, the snow comes down, 1932

And the hungry moans and shivers of your children rips through you

No money or no start could tear your home apart,

Still this man with a lion's heart stands at the gate for you

With the country on it's knees you always had your pride

You never took the final count a fire burned down deep inside

On the docks you got no breaks, just hand outs from the state

But a day of destiny was shining down on you!

The Bulldog from Bergin and the hope of the working man

You punched down hungers door to a better day

The hopes of down trodden men were vested in your hands

And they all stood with you The Cinderella Man

You were rared by the Hudson as a boy you soon would see

How this country harboured many from their home across the sea

From Sullivan to Conn, Tunney, Dempsey were just some

Of the one's from Gaelic sons that found a better day

The thirteenth day of June, 1935

You walked into the ring with something much deeper than pride

You fought with a lion's heart, an empty belly, feet apart

And you won a brand new start for your hungry clan

The Bulldog from Bergin and the hope of the working man

You punched down hungers door to a better day

The hopes of down trodden men were vested in your hands

And they all stood with you The Cinderella Man

So here's to the Bergin Bulldog, James Braddock was his name

He fought too for his country and he laboured for it's gains

From far off Saipan's ridge to the Verrazano Bridge

Walks the man with the iron fists The Cinderella Man.

The Bulldog from Bergin and the hope of the working man

You punched down hungers door to a better day

The hopes of down trodden men were vested in your hands

And they all stood with you The Cinderella Man

　

　

　

Home

Lyrics: Ronan

A song about the strange feeling of being born in a country that you don’t truly consider your own.

 In my experience people tend to gravitate back to their cultural heritage the older they get,

 it gets more important. The second verse is written from my own personal perspective,

 mapping the journey of the MacManus family through the years.

Ronan

I don’t know where I stand, is this land my land?

I don’t know where it started

But where I call home is not where my heart is

It’s in a place I don’t know, It’s a place I never go

But her waters run through me

And I run to her sea

This is where we made our homes

This is where we made our homes

Always looking over my shoulder

Why must we always look behind?

Oh and as I’m getting older

She’s always on my mind

From the County Tyrone, we were forced to roam

To the Birkenhead dockside

To London’s dirty street lights

This is where we made our homes

This is where we made our homes

Always looking over my shoulder

Why must we always look behind?

Oh and as I’m getting older

She’s always on my mind

She’s on my mind

Always looking over my shoulder

Why must we always look behind?

Oh and as I’m getting older

She’s always on my mind

She’s always on my mind

I don’t know where it started

But where I call home is not where my heart is

　

　

Paddy Devil

Lyrics: Joe/Ronan

The main body of the lyrics were written by Joe and it’s all about the little devil that sits on your shoulder,

whispers in your ear and brings you out on the beer when you don’t want to go (but you really do).

 I gave this lil fella a name and Tom Gallahue of Rebel Arts gave him a face,

he can be found in the album sleeve.

Ronan

Tryin to find my way through life the devils always there

I’m kneeling down to pray to god and tell him its not fair

The devil screams ‘get on your feet, you sure don’t have to lose

Grab your coat its Friday, we're going on the booze!!!’

Devil brought me straight to hell on earth its called the crown

A bar for mortal sinners in the middle of hayes town.

I cant get out, the doors are locked, and paddys at the pump

If I don’t rack them up fast I know they’ll have the hump

Paddy Devil’s on me shoulder

Paddy won’t you leave me all alone

Paddy Devil it’s over

I want to go back home

The days all morf and I dont know if its day or night

Patrick’s talkin to the smurfs and Andy’s lost his sight

Carlton’s got his clothes off, Enda’s surfing on his bass

a fella yelled at Ronan, Paddy’s smashed him in the face

I made a deal with devil and he's got me out of there

I‘ve lost my soul and plenty more but i don’t really care

home now cabbie double quick, before that devil calls

He cant touch me once inside I’m safe within the walls,

Paddy Devil’s on me shoulder

Paddy won’t you leave me all alone

Paddy Devil it’s over

I want to go back home

Wake up on a Monday, and the room it stinks of shite,

The cabbie wanted twenty but I offered him a fight.

before I get the chance to wash I hear that devil call.

Come on lad, lets get the cure, its waiting at the Shawl!!!

I tried to tell him, its not on, and I don’t want to go

That evil little devil, simply didn’t want to know.

its too late now, you can’t say no, your word it is your seal,

you’re stuck with me, I own your soul, you know we made a deal

Paddy Devil’s on me shoulder

Paddy won’t you leave me all alone

Paddy Devil it’s over

I want to go back home

Paddy Devil’s on me shoulder

Paddy won’t you leave me all alone

Paddy Devil it’s over

I want to go back home

　

　

　

The Kids From The City Of Nowhere

Lyrics: Andy

The story of the Irish in London.

The title of the song says it all- we built this city and to this day have never

 received any recognition for the massive contribution we made to this city's success story!

It's almost as though London's largest ethnic group never existed.

Here we set the record straight once and for all!

Andy

See the sun set on the city of London

Down through the bush and out to the west

Out past the Westway and the huddled houses

Down into greenford and the boys on the bench

Down come the Hayes Bhoys from an Old Firm triumph

Gonna drink West London dry tonight

Up then to harrow on a Monday evening

To hook up with you cos everything’s been just right

Since the days down in Kilburn and the Cricklewood Broadway

Raising holy hell with The Sunshine Boys

Putting all the tables and chairs through the windows

Smashing all the glasses just like they were toys

In come the boys “put some dough in the tin lads”

“No problem son, it’s all for the cause”

And who forget the jukebox in Biddys

Blasting out war into the streets of Kilburn

Cos we are the kids from the city of nowhere

The forgotten children of the irish race

Cos we built the roads and the docks and the railways

Aint nothing but pride on this West London Irish face

Taking on the market boys down the Brooke Green

Coming home bruised in the back of your car

On up to The George in the Hammersmith Broadway

Racing through the door trying to get to the bar

James Connolly Folk playing up in the corner

Down jumps Farrell on top of Thatcher’s man

seven shades of shite and the whole place laughing

That stupid punk just picked on the wrong man

Cos we are the kids from the city of nowhere

The forgotten children of the Irish race

Cos we built the roads and the docks and the railways

Aint nothing but pride on this West London Irish face

Up in high rise on the streets of Acton

Some bastards about to get the fright of their life

cos they’ve been pushing round our women and children

The hurley sticks are coming just to make this right

cos these were the days of our forefathers

When the Irish ran the bars and the roads and the sites

we are the children of these navvy grafters

We fought our way through for ourselves and our rights

Cos we are the kids from the city of nowhere

The forgotten children of the irish race

Cos we built the roads and the docks and the railways

Aint nothing but pride on this West London Irish face

We built this city

　

　

　

The Swamp Rats Of Louisiana

Lyrics: Andy

This song tells the story of how the Irish built the canals and levees of New Orleans.

From the late 1840s and early 1850s, cotton merchants from Louisiana recruited

 Irish immigrants in Liverpool who had disembarked there to flee the famine in Ireland.

 These brokers sold them tickets to New Orleans tricking them

into believing it was only a few days journey to Boston or New York.

What awaited them instead was a land of alligators, swamp rats and unbearable heat.

They were soon employed and exploited by greedy contractors who- like the slave owners-

considered black slaves far too valuable to risk at such dangerous work!

If an Irishman died on the job he could be replaced at no cost with more

Irish arriving daily by the boatload. The biggest project was the digging of

The New Basin Canal which would link Lake Pontchartrain with the Mississippi River.

Cholera, malaria and yellow fever claimed 30 000 Irishmen who were buried along the canal.

Andy

My name it is Sheehan many miles I have strayed

To this cruel heat of New Orleans,

For I was told by the broker I would get to New York

And bid farewell to the Liverpool streets

From the docks of the Mersey I arrived on these shores

And we built the New Basin Canal

And we fell like the rain digging towards pontchartrain

Now the fever has taken us all

The heat it is hell and the day it is long

From swinging this pick there's no thanks

And when we had finished and dug to the Lake

30 000 lay dead on it's banks

We huddled in shacks that once sheltered the blacks

In the Poor Third District it's known

And we ate clasps of straw, for our bellies were raw

And we died on the sides of the road

Down in Gallatin Street the old hookers would meet

The thieves and the coppers would fight

And the Live Oaks would battle their way through them all

And I stood with them right through the night

A Live Oak boy I am and I don't care a damn

For those bastards who near worked me dry

Now the cholera's spread and they'll all soon be dead

And we'll all meet our Lord in the sky

Farewell Mother Ireland you had given your best

For your own blight has emptied your shores

All we found was yellow fever, exploitation and death

A sunken city of death, swamps and whores

So to hell all ye landlords, sneak brokers and you

Who treated us worse than a slave

No price or no value for any Mick with a spade

When we all flooded down the gangways!

A Live Oak boy I am and I don't care a damn

For those bastards who near worked me dry

Now the cholera's spread and they'll all soon be dead

And we'll all meet our Lord in the sky

Yes we'll all meet our Lord in the sky

　

　

　

The Green & Red of Harrow

Lyrics: Ronan/Enda/Andy

Written for the, seemingly, millions of people in Harrow from County Mayo or of Mayo descent.

Never more evident than the day that Mayo Gaelic Football team came over

 to play London at our local GAA ground,

the amount of green & red Mayo shirts in the area that day was astonishing.

Ronan

It’s the Green & Red of Harrow with boys there from Mayo

Newport & Mulranny bucks along the Northolt Road

3 pub-loads from Bohola, Ballina & Ballycroy

So take me home to Harrow ‘neath a London Irish sky

We’ll scare the living jayzus out the posh boys on the hill

& the ghost of Michael Gaughan is lingering there still

& all the Westport bachelors all in the Spanish Arch

Tryin to find a Galway Hooker on the 17th of March

It’s the Green & Red of Harrow with boys there from Mayo

Newport & Mulranny bucks along the Northolt Road

3 pub-loads from Bohola, Ballina & Ballycroy

So take me home to Harrow ‘neath a London Irish sky

In all the Harrow boozers it was like St Patrick’s Day

When the green & red of Mayo came over here to play

& John Keogh wooed the Mayo Girls at Ruislip GAA

They very soon were charmed by his London Irish way

It’s the Green & Red of Harrow with boys there from Mayo

Newport & Mulranny bucks along the Northolt Road

3 pub-loads from Bohola, Ballina & Ballycroy

So take me home to Harrow ‘neath a London Irish sky

Now the day is over & the night is drawing in

We’ll all head off to Diceys as penance for the sin

We’ll all go ‘ugly early‘, boys, before we all get locked

It’ll be a miracle if half of these ever land back down in Knock

It’s the Green & Red of Harrow with boys there from Mayo

Newport & Mulranny bucks along the Northolt Road

3 pub-loads from Bohola, Ballina & Ballycroy

So take me home to Harrow ‘neath a London Irish sky

　

　

　

Welcome to Cricklewood

Lyrics: Ronan

Cricklewood for years has been one of the most Irish areas of London

with The Galtymore dance hall and The Crown pub being major parts of the social life.

The song also mentions Chichele Rd where many Irishmen used to line up

and wait for ‘a start’ on the building sites, hundreds still do today although

 now they tend to be Eastern Europeans rather than the Irish ‘navvies’ of the 50’s and 60’s.

Ronan

Welcome to Cricklewood, yeah come in from the cold

put your shovel down, come into the Crown be you Paddy or Pole

There’s Mass in the morning boys, there’ll be no digging holes

Get up on your guard & pray for a start out on Chichele Road

& the bright lights of London are blocking out the stars

Where you can’t walk for people & you can’t drive for cars

& the whiskey flows freely for the bhoys in the ‘hood

Welcome to Cricklewood

Welcome to Cricklewood, where the bars are all packed

In the oul Galtymore they’re out on the floor ‘cos Big Tom is back

There’s Molloys and Molloski’s, whiskey. Vodka & black

They’re all over here, they’re all on the beer & they’re not going back

& the bright lights of London are blocking out the stars

Where you can’t walk for people & you can’t drive for cars

& the whiskey flows freely for the bhoys in the ‘hood

Welcome to Cricklewood

(instrumental)

& the bright lights of London are blocking out the stars

Where you can’t walk for people & you can’t drive for cars

& the whiskey flows freely for the bhoys in the ‘hood

Welcome to Cricklewood

We went too far down in Barretts Bar with Eammon & wee Mick

Boots or no boots we’re watching the hoops, so let’s sing out for the ‘tic…

Say farewell to Cricklewood, I’ve drank with the best

So raise up your glass to the ghosts of our past

Goodnight & God Bless

　

　

　

See You At The Crossroads

Lyrics: Andy

Inspired by the remarkable story of London Irish bank robber Noel 'Razor' Smith.

From his early life on the tough streets of South London where he and his gang

 became The Flying Squad's most wanted criminals during the

 1990s to his incarcaration in the UK's most notorious prisons.

 After spending half his life behind bars Razor soon learnt how to read and write,

 dramatically turning his life around he becoming a talented and articulate writer.

The song's title is taken from the opening words of his book

'A Few Kind Words and A Loaded Gun' which he dedicates to his son Joe

 who tragically died so young. Razor is up for parole this summer (2007).

Failing that he will be released in two years from now.

The blood trickles down my weary face

And I look back at the man and the mirror shakes

And pull the razor deeper to the bone

Then I see the faces of a thousand men

who've felt the same and I look back again

With no regrets for they too reaped what they've sown

But I've never slashed a face that wasn't looking at me

Nor offered some excuse or some apology

To a man in suit and all those well mannered thugs

From the poison that you pumped right through my veins

Or the blacked out holes that you kept me in

T'was none of this changed me, this you should know

So let me see you smile for a little while

Coz when the morning comes I'm gone but I know that

some day soon I'll meet you at that other place!

No loaded gun or these prison gates

A few kind words is all it takes

some day soon I'll meet you at that other place!

2 Racing through London in the pouring rain

I feel the rush go through my brain

Finger on the trigger, the mask in my hand

Nothing can touch us, you're Butch I'm Sundance

Open up the door and I'm home to you

And I fall into your arms so true

Just hold me now coz all I want is you

So let me see you smile for a little while

Coz when the morning comes I'm gone but I know that

some day soon I'll meet you at that other place!

No loaded gun or these prison gates

A few kind words is all it takes

some day soon I'll meet you at that other place!

If I came from a broken home, it was me who'd broken it

Outa control now I know it's true, just how much I hurt you

For if I could just start all over again,

I wouldn't have to smell the blood I've spilled

Or see the tears run down your face so true

Living in a dream world, I've faced up to my mistakes

A few kind words is all it takes coz that's how I found you

So the next time I walk out through those gates

I'll see the smiles on my loved one's face

And I'll be free in my own heart, my mind and soul

See you at the crossroads kid!

A few kind words is all it takes

Not a loaded gun or these prison gates

Just one more chance it's not too late

You're a shining light

See you at the crossroads kid!

　

　

　

Stranger in My Land

A poem written by my Dad, Ross McManus,

 half in the 1950’s and half in the mid 1990’s.

The music was written by my brother Kieran, a beautiful melody.

Ronan

I am stranger in the land I love

I cannot call this land my own

Here through the years where my people worked

here in the spot that they called home

Noone to say “you have your mother’s eyes”

Noone can tell me what I seek

And my voice is the voice of a stranger now

My tongue betrays me when I speak

The land is sad and empty now

The loving hands have flown

and we must wander far away

make other lands our own

Although people smile as I walk down the street

And offer me a welcome hand

They only smile at a stranger now

For I am a stranger in my land

What would I give to hear my Granda’s voice

Speak in his accent sweet and clear

The sound of Ulster tripping from his lips

Would just be magic to my ear

I know that Granny used to call her sons ‘sun, moon and stars’

And ‘blue-eyed Irish boy’

How sad I’ll never hear her call my name

No tender word to bring me joy

The hearth is cold, no turf-fire gleams round which to hear a song

As misty memory fades in tears I’m told I don’t belong

Although people smile as I walk down the street

And offer me a welcome hand

They only smile at a stranger now

For I am a stranger in my land