I have the wrong accent
And I sing the wrong anthem
It's not my fault
But I've lived with the shame
You just can't belong to
A six week long summer
September always comes knocking again
60's depression fuelled the diaspora
Did they think they would stay
For a year and a day?
My past is no different
But the bridge it is broken
Was flesh and blood
Become plastic instead
Now I can put them together again
Birmingham Irish I am I am
The fate of our fathers are lived by the children
New York Irish I am
Grew up through the ‘troubles'
Consumed by two cultures
We never called home
The place were we lived
I grew up in a city,
The city of workers
And sang in the bars
Songs of my mother and father
You screamed out for Michael
As the river flowed faster
You sang out for Ray
When the lions he tamed
But when I sang in Digbeth
You called me plastic
Am I so different
Never to be the same?
Now I can put them together again
Manchester Irish I am I am
The fate of our fathers are lived by the children
Boston Irish I am
Drinking in London the football fans mingle
Everyone dressed in the Green, White and Gold
But because of an accent bones they were broken
On the same side but not sharing a home.
Plastic is made by a coming together
Of culture and time and necessities hand
Lasting forever and changing for better
Blessed with a future and blessed with a plan
Now I can put them together again
Glasgow Irish I am I am
The fate of our fathers are lived by the children
Toronto Irish I am
Writer(s): Michael Paul Brien
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