All for the Roses - Christy Moore

He’s twenty-five;

he’s sick and tired

It’s time to try the other side

The B&I to paradise

To sergeants and their men

He’s never been to Dun Na Ri

Combed the beaches after three

Chips and beer and greenery

Brothers one and all

He signed and took the soldiers crest

A decent man in battle dress

When bugles blow you do your best

For sergeants and their men

All for the roses, over the sea

He’s way ahead;

he’s second to none

With his fabrique nationali gun

Marching bands with Saxon blood

Sergeants and their men

They landed with the sinking sun

An invasion by the media run

They covered up and they kissed with tongues

Sergeants and their men

But the phantom gunner danced the end

And battered human bodies bled

They butchered us, we butchered them

Sergeants and their men

All for the roses, over the sea

All for the roses, Finglas boys to be

Now a flower of sleep grows on his grave

Forgotten soon the cowards and the brave

But the coldest hate still lives today

For sergeants and their men

All for the roses, over the sea

All for the roses, Finglas boys to be