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, and 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, and back again 

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, and back again