Irish Song Lyrics 
from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
Nineteen eighty four 
The vans they come in convoys now Stealing through the dawn Silent in the countryside In the hills up to the north There´s road blocks on the Meden bridge There´s click click clicking on the phone They´re sealing off our villages Sealing off our homes 
Her father crossed the battle lines In the first months of the war She frowns down at the soup kitchen She doesn´t have a father anymore It´s cold in the early mornings Standing with your mates Staring at the thick blue line Armed and ready at the gates 
This ain´t some tinpot story arriving from a distant shore But or own sweet green and pleasant land in 1984 
The servants of our great nation Have lied in the name of us all While the officers of peace and order Are busy breaking every law There´s hundreds on trumped-up charges Hundreds on the streets The future of our villages Sown with bitter seeds 
And hatred starts to rumble where there was no hate before In our own sweet green and pleasant land in 1984 
Nobody wanted to see the blood As the blue lights flash through in the night But all the words fell on deaf ears And now the blind frustration bites 
Two nations under one crown divided more and more In our own sweet green and pleasant land in 1984