Scapegoats - Christy Moore

There was five men playing poker, on the Heysham train

Fate was dealing them a cruel hand;

Hugh Callaghan was walking home, through the evening rain

Not knowing what lay in store for him

You’ll find traces of nitro on cigarettes and matches

On formica tabletops and on decks of playin' cards;

When forensic found traces on the hands of these six men

The police drove up from Birmingham

They were hoping the case was closed

Have you ever seen the mugshots that were taken

After forty eight hours in custody?

Battered and bruised, haunted looks upon their faces

The judge accepted they confessed willingly —

Please take another look at what you see

If you tell me my family are being terrorised

Keep me awake for six days and nights, confused and terrified;

In the lonely dark of night, I’ll swear that black is white —

If you let me just lay down and close my eyes;

I’ll sign anything, if you let me close my eyes

Scales of justice, balance up your act —

Am I talking to myself or to the wall?

Hugh Callaghan, Paddy Hill, Gerry Hunter, Johnny Walker

Billy Power, Dick McIlkenny scapegoats all

For sixteen years they’ve been talking to the wall