The Men Of No Property - Leaving Belfast Town

I'd lived my life in Belfast town, and oft times I've asked why
That evil men and orders were allowed to bleed us dry.
Born in a dirty tenement in a district falling down
And I tell you, John, I've often longed to leave old Belfast town.
Belfast's a northern city where decent men are few,
Where drums and flags have hid the eyes of working men, it's true.
Where democracy means hypocracy, and corruption does abound,
And I tell you John, I've often longed to leave old Belfast town.
Oh well now, John, you've been and gone around this world to see,
And have you found a country where a poor man might be free?
Where there are no greedy landlords, or forces of the crown,
Oh, tell me John, and I'll be gone far from old Belfast town.
They've filled the minds with poison, and I fear it is too late,
To wash those walls of hatred and the words that speak of hate.
All freedom has been banished and honest men put down,
And I tell you John, I've oft times longed to leave Belfast town.
There's barricades and burning now, and gunmen walk the street,
There's C.S. gas from England that the hungry kids can eat.
Our town's an old sand castle now, and the waves begin to pound,
And I tell you John, I've often longed to leave Belfast town.

[@dorianslane2872]

I cannot say that this is the only life we live. There might be others. And if that is the case, I lived and died in Ireland.