i was on the front line of the march down on william street
crowd a cheering, some stones were thrown but otherwise at peace
gas was fired by th army, the marchers sprayed with dye
someone shouted saracens are coming on rossville street they road

a hall of shots rang out, crowd taken unawares
there were people lying, creeping, running, screaming everywhere
bullets coming from all directions, under fire when we moved our heads
though we approaced the soldiers with our hands up in the air

now the ropes slip gently /neath your back
lowered to a peace that you have gained
among the living dressed in black
i'm left standing over, standing over your grave

running by the rubble barricades just past glenfada park
i was dragged out by my hair on the ground, crawling to your side

a man took his coat off, put it under your sweet head
father daly whispered last rites, but you were gone
high up on a hill of creegan derry mourned the fall
when i pray to god i ask him what's the meaning of it all