Michael
Johnny McEvoy Lyrics

The curlew stood silent and unseen in the long damp grass,
The curlew bird was quietly perched in the tall, moist grass, out of sight from the commotion below.

And he looked down on the road bellow
The bird surveyed the scene below, focused on the road winding through the valley.

Him that wound its way through Beal Na m Blath.
The road cut through the town of Beal Na m Blath.

And he heard the young men shouting and cursing, Running backward and forward, Dodging weaving and ducking the bullets that Rained down on them from the hillside opposite.
The curlew heard the chaos below as young men were yelling, dodging, and running from bullets being fired from the opposite hillside.

Just as quickly as it started the firing Stopped, And a terrible silence hung over the valley.
The shooting ended abruptly and a dreadful silence fell over the valley.

A lone figure lay on the roadside in the drizzling august rain, Dressed in green great coat, leggings and brown hob nail boots, That would never again set the sparks flying from the Kitchen flagstones as he danced his way through a half set.
A solitary figure, dressed in their traditional green attire, lay on the wet roadside in the August rain, never to dance again.

A hurried whispered act of contrition and the firing breaks out again.
An apology was quickly whispered and the shooting resumed again.

Candles dripping blood, they placed beside your shoulders, The curlew takes to flight and as he flies out over the empty sad Fields of West Cork, With his lonesome call he must tell the world that The big fella has fallen and that Michael is gone.
Candles, resembling blood, were positioned beside the fallen figure while the curlew flies over the desolate fields of West Cork, mournfully announcing the loss of the famed 'Big Fella', Michael Collins.

On a far off August day, cold young men in ambush lay, On a roadside by a hill where flowers grow, So much hate for one so young, Who was right and who was wrong, Though a thousand years may pass we'll never know.
On a distant August day, young men lay in ambush on a roadside near a hill with flowers. So much animosity towards someone so young— the right and wrong remains unknown even after a millennium.

Candles dripping blood, they placed beside your shoulders, Rosary beads like teardrops on your fingers, Friends and comrades standin by, in their grief they wonder why, Michael in their hour of need you had to go.
As candles dripped blood-like wax beside Michael's lifeless form, sorrowful friends and comrades were standing with rosary beads, wondering why he had to leave them during their darkest hour.

And when evening twilight came, gentle fell the August rain, Oh but you lay still and silent on the ground, As we hung our heads in prayer, in our sorrow and despair, We wondered was it friend or foe who shot you down,
As evening twilight arrived in the form of gentle August rain, Michael lay there motionless on the ground while mourners bowed their heads in sadness and questioned if the shot came from a friend or foe.

Now the flame that you held high, when you called out to the sky, To end this senseless killing and this shame, Has now passed to other hands and is carried Through the land By some not fit to even speak your name.
The passion and determination that Michael had to end the senseless death and indignity has been passed down to others who are undeserving to even mention his name.

Michael in our hour of need why did you go
This line serves as a reflection on how Michael Collins' death impacted a nation and questions why someone so needed had to go.