Ashes in a Jar
Words and Music by
Ian Byrne, Norm Dahlor, Brent Hoad & Steve Phillips
You can call me names and hit me
Hold me down and kick me
Those northern girls are like that you shall see
She came from County Derry by way of Portadown
In a week or two she broke both her and me
She lived outside the wall behind the Butcher's Gate
Where the Green and the Gold live free
Put her ashes in a jar when she is gone
High on the wall of Kings Arms
Every Sunday say a prayer, she'll remember me from there
By every drop of whisky she would swear
And whisper her name if you dare
Her mother was a Methodist, her father was a Jew
He acquired a taste for Bushmills in good time
Worked me seven nights a week, midnight creep
On the main line way back in fifty nine
When they finally cut her down, no mention in the news
What a shame not a soul gave a d***
From Giant's Road to Cave Hill, Falls Road to the coast
She shook me down and waved that b***** shirt
They took her in the afternoon, and there she stood accused
In time they could really make it hurt
Painting murals on the walls with the enemy
Her only crime was the freedom that could stand
© 2009 The Elders
Words and Music by
Ian Byrne, Norm Dahlor, Brent Hoad & Steve Phillips
You can call me names and hit me
Hold me down and kick me
Those northern girls are like that you shall see
She came from County Derry by way of Portadown
In a week or two she broke both her and me
She lived outside the wall behind the Butcher's Gate
Where the Green and the Gold live free
Put her ashes in a jar when she is gone
High on the wall of Kings Arms
Every Sunday say a prayer, she'll remember me from there
By every drop of whisky she would swear
And whisper her name if you dare
Her mother was a Methodist, her father was a Jew
He acquired a taste for Bushmills in good time
Worked me seven nights a week, midnight creep
On the main line way back in fifty nine
When they finally cut her down, no mention in the news
What a shame not a soul gave a d***
From Giant's Road to Cave Hill, Falls Road to the coast
She shook me down and waved that b***** shirt
They took her in the afternoon, and there she stood accused
In time they could really make it hurt
Painting murals on the walls with the enemy
Her only crime was the freedom that could stand
© 2009 The Elders