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THE KNOCK SONG
By Christy Moore

At the early age of 38, me mother sent me west,
"Get up!", says she, "and get a job",
Says I, "I've done me best!",
So I put on my wellington boots and marched to Kiltimagh, Took a wrong turn at
Charleston, And ended up at Knock.

Now once this quite crossroads was a place of gentle prayer,
Where Catholics got indulgent,
Once or twice a year, You could buy a pair of rosary beads,
Or get your candles blessed.
If you had a guilty conscience you could get it off your chest.

Then came this priest from Partry,
Father Horan was his name,
And since he's been appointed,
Knock has never been the same.
Be God, says Jem, "'tis 80 years since Mary was about,
It's time for another miracle!",
And he blew the candle out.

From Fatima to Bethlehem,
From Lourdes to Kiltimagh,
There's never been a miracle,
Like the airport up at Knock.

Chip shops and bed and breakfasts sprung up overnight,
There was such a range of godly goods,
They had Top 20 charts.

TD's were lobbied and harassed with talks of promised votes,
People who'd been loyal for years,
Spoke of changing coats, Excommunication was threatened on the flock,
Who said it was abortive to build an airport up at Knock.

Did NATO donate the dough, me boys,
Did NATO donate the dough?
Did NATO donate the dough, me boys?
Did NATO donate the dough?
18,000 feet of runway seems an awful long way to go.

BOYS OF THE COUNTY MAYO

Far away from the Land of the Shamrock and Heather
In search of a living as exiles we roam.
But whenever we chance to assemble together
We think of the land where we once had a home.

But these homes are destroyed and our soils cultivated.
The hand of the tyrant brought plunder and woe.
Our fires are long dead and our hearths desolated
In our once happy homes in the County Mayo.

'Tis many long years since with hearts full of sorrow,
The Land of the Shamrock we left far behind.
The days of our youth it's now we regret them,
And the friends of our childhood whom we still bear in mind.

Ah! The days of our youth we'll never forget them
They cling to our visions wherever we go.
And the friends of our youth, may God always be with them.
They too are exiles from the County Mayo.

From historic Killala, from Swinford to Ballagh,
Ballyhaunis and Westport and oul' Castlebar,
Kiltimagh and Claremorris, Belmullet and Erris,
Kilkelly and Knock, that's famed near and far,

Balla, Ballinrobe, Ballina and Bohola,
Keel Oaks and Foxford, a few miles below,
Newport and Cong and oul' Straide and Manulla,
Charlestown too, in the County Mayo.

Chorus:
Now Boys, pull together in all kinds of weather,
Ne'er show the white feather wherever ye go.
Act each like a brother and help one and other,
Like the stout-hearted men from the County Mayo

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