Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
Wonder who comes off the worse
Poor old people mistreating, misbelieving
Are you given, cursed by a curse
But I don't want you to die, I can see all the lies
There's nothing there that's new
But there's still no need to make blind children bleed
Even if what you say is true
And meanwhile in the aisles of the churches with style
They're singing their songs to the lord
And the preacher is carping, that for failure on earth
Heaven will be your reward
Poor old Ireland, tortured by past
And tarnished by future's curse
Poor old Ireland, poor old planet
Poor old universe
Oh, Ireland your people mean more than the idols
You seek to set up on earth
And the day that you see, that's the day
That all of your sadness and sickness will die
For the enemy you seek to destroy
Is not the one who's causing your pain
He's disguised himself well with his book and his bell
But evil is still his name
Poor old Ireland, tortured by past
And tarnished by future's curse
Poor old Ireland, poor old universe
Wonder who comes off the worse