My song for you this evening,
It's not to make you sad,
Nor for adding to the sorrows
Of our troubled northern land.
But lately I've been thinking,
And it just won't leave my mind,
I'll tell you of two friends one time,
Who were both good friends of mine.
Now Isaac he was Protestant
and Sean was Catholic-born,
But it never made a difference,
For the friendship it was strong.
And sometimes in the evening,
When we heard the sound of drums,
We said it won't divide us;
We will always be as one.
There were roses, roses, roses,
And the tears of the people ran together.
It was on a Sunday morning
When the awful news came round;
Another killing had been done,
Just outside Newry town.
We knew that Isaac danced up there,
We knew he liked the band,
But when we heard that he was dead
We just couldn't understand.
Now fear it filled the countryside;
There was fear in every home,
When late at night a car came
Prowling round the Ryan road.
A Catholic would be killed tonight
To even up the score,
Oh Christ, it's young MacDonald
They've taken from the door.
There were roses, roses, roses,
And the tears of a people ran together.
Isaac was my friend he cried,
He begged them with his tears,
But centuries of hatred
Have ears that do not hear.
An eye for an eye,
Was all that filled their minds,
And another eye for another eye,
Til everyone is blind.
Now, I don't know what the moral is,
Or where this song should end,
But I wonder just how many wars
Are fought between good friends.
And those who give the orders
Are not the ones to die;
It's Scott and young MacDonald
And the likes of you and I.
There were roses, roses, roses,
And the tears of the people ran together.
There were roses, roses, roses,
And the tears of the people ran together.