Pogues
"Streets of Sorrow / Birmingham Six"

Oh farewell, you streets of sorrow
And farewell, you streets of pain
I'll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slain

Through the last six years, I've lived through terror
And in the darkened streets, the pain
Oh, how I long to find some solace
In my mind I curse the strain

So farewell, you streets of sorrow
And farewell, you streets of pain
No, I'll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slain

There were six men in Birmingham
In Guildford, there's four
That were picked up and tortured
And framed by the law

And the filth got promotion
But they're still doing time
For being Irish in the wrong place
And at the wrong time

In Ireland they'll put you away in the Maze
In England they'll keep you for seven long days
God help you if ever you're caught on these shores
The coppers need someone and they walk through that door

You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the stinking cell
From wall to wall and back again

A curse on the judges, the coppers, and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused
For the price of promotion and justice to sell
May the judged be their judges when they rot down in hell

You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again

May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland, eight more men lie dead
Kicked down and shot in the back of the head

You'll be counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a freezing hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again

Counting years, first five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
'Round the yard and the lousy cell
From wall to wall, then back again