Bata is Bóthar (engl.: The Stick and the Road)

THE STICK AND THE ROAD





O I spent a time in the land of the yanks

Sleeping out under the tree of my hope

Tearing down walls my father had built before me

Between himself and the window of suspicion of their eyes





Yeah they gave us generously what they had to give

The stick and the road and the longing to go home

Yes go home to hell

And stay home in Ireland





And I went after that to greater London

My two hands hanging and me on my own

If I was a hundred years at the door of John Bull

I wouldn?t get in close to his heart





Yeah they gave us generously what they had to give

The stick and the road and the longing to go home

Yes go home to hell

And stay home in Ireland





And I was in the end at the end of the world

Lying face down in the pool of loneliness

Scratching at the clay in a trench too wide

That was as narrow as the grave of my child





Yeah they gave us generously what they had to give

The stick and the road and the longing to go home

Yes go home to hell

And stay home in Ireland





And one day I went to the land of the blind

Looking for shelter from the rage of the sea

All I found there was the bleating of money

And the wetting of my mouth from my own tears





Yeah they gave us generously what they had to give

The stick and the road and the longing to go home

Yes go home to hell

And stay home from Ireland