The Trumpets of Jericho
Came raining down on Cathcart Street
And the walls of terraced houses
Came crashing round our feet
We didn't want to send our children
To foreign lands to fight a war
But then I seen young Billy Kavanagh
Lying dead outside my door
They're bringing in conscription boys
The writing's on the wall
All those black-haired Irish boys answering the call
It may not be for King & Country
But we'll make them taste defeat
Cos the Trumpets of Jericho came raining down on Cathcart Street
They gave Our Kid a rifle
Joseph Patrick McAteer
A welter-weight, just five foot eight
And only eighteen years
McLaughlin & McGuigan
Yeah Flyboots said he'd do his best
And the Orange boys of Conway Street
They were taken with the rest
It may not be for King & country
But we'll make them taste defeat
Cos the Trumpets of Jericho came raining down on Cathcart Street
The Trumpets of Jericho came raining down on Cathcart Street
Big Bold Johnny Mahoney
Who dug the Mersey Tunnel on his own
He was out there digging trenches
But he never made it home
Oh Johnny Boy where are you now?
Sometimes I swear I hear your voice
Ringing round these narrow streets
I wish they'd given you a choice
So you see it's not your country
Not your king and all his men
And they'll put you on the frontline boys
When they send for you again
Yeah they'll put you on the frontline boys
When they send for you again
And again and again