A St. Patrick's Day Poem

I thought, like a lot of you, that the "troubles" would finally be over. As we've seen lately, I don't think so. Anyway, here's a poem from college for St. Patrick's Day:

St. Patrick’s Day

We’re comin through the clover fields
beneath God’s purple sky.
We’re marchin through the city streets,
the Cathlicks soon will die.

In Erin past, a pretty lass
could turn a young gent’s eye.
But now that’s done, and only guns
can make a young boy die.

Now stompin’ down on Danny Boy,
we’re kicking out his knees.
We praise our maker and our land,
we fight to bring all peace.

In Erin past, a pretty lass
could turn a young gent’s eye.
But now that’s done, and only guns
can make a young boy die.

In orange and green, a war machine,
we fight the bloody war.
We kill our foes, especially those
who ask what is this for?

In Erin past, a pretty lass
could turn a young gent’s eye.
But now that’s done, and only guns
can make a young boy die.

Our Emerald Isle is burned and choked
by bombings and by hate.
We fight to enter heaven first
and turn back at the gate.

In Erin past, a pretty lass
could turn a young gent’s eye.
But now that’s done, and only guns
can make a young boy die.