Now [D]Peter John McCoy was a [A7]catholic [D]boy.
He sang songs of [A]liberty
and the [A7]great Henry [D]Joy,
But the Saxon ,,,,,,,,,,,,are (and?) the [G]things that he loved [D]best
And he got
a bunch of flowers when they [A7]laid him to his [D]rest.
Oh there’s [G]got
to be an [A]end to it [D]some day,
To the [G]torture that this [A]land is going [D]through,
And I [G]hope to live to
[A]see it in [D]my day,
When our [G]country will be [A7]one instead of [D]two.
Now [D]young Sammy Nelson he came [A7]from the other [D]side,
On the twelfth
day of Ju[A]ly it [A7]was his joy and [D]pride,
For in his heart there was no hate for [G]he was young and [D]gay,
they wrapped the sash around him when they [A7]laid him in the [D]clay.
Now [D]young Sammy Baxter he came [A7]from across the [D]sea,
And when he
was a [A]boy a [A7]soldier he would [D]be,
But in the streets of Belfast he fell [G]at the (a?) sniper’s [D]hand,
victim of a bitter hate he [A7]didn't under[D]stand.
And I [G]hope to live to [A]see it in [D]my day,
When our [G]country will
be [A7]one instead of [D]two. -A7-D