Gerry Gilmore Irish lyrics
Written by Seoirse MacDomhaill.
Gerard Gilmore was a 19 year old Official IRA Volunteer from Belfast. He was shot dead on 13 July 1976 outside the Boundary Bar in North Belfast near the Bawnmore area, a particularly dangerous, isolated Nationalist enclave. The Boundary Bar was a frequent target for sectarian attacks, and Gilmore was on duty to protect the pub and its occupants from Loyalist attacks. For this cause he gave his life. The tune of the song is ''The Valley Of Knockanure ''
It was in the year of '76 in the summer of that year
The Boundary Bar was guarded by a single Volunteer
His name was Gerry Gilmore and he stood his watch that night
To guard the lives of workers from the butchers of the Right.
He was a lad of nineteen years but England's power he fought
A Socialist Republic was the goal for which he sought
He loved the people of his land and the workers of Belfast town
But the murderers feared this brave young man and so they gunned him down.
The Boundary Bar in North Belfast was a dangerous place to be
The UVF they ringed it round bent on a murder spree
The people gathered there to drink, the news to tell or hear
Content they were well guarded by that Sticky Volunteer.
The Boundary Bar near Bawnmore the murderes said must go
"Twas owned by a Catholic family as all of them did know
Many times they planned to blow it up or burn it to the ground
But they dared not try to do it 'til they shot young Gerry down.
The thugs crept up on Gerry for they meant to shoot him dead
He heard a sound, he turned around as the bullet struck his head
He'd not time to raise his weapon for alas it was too late
And by a cowardly murder Gerry Gilmore met his fate.
Young Gerry was not a militarist, but to fight he did not fear
To work for Revolution he'd become a Volunteer
To guard the people of Belfast, this was his chosen task
He gave his life, 'twas all he had, for more we could not ask.
His funeral marched to Milltown as manys the one before
In silent grief the people came from out of every door
There's some who'll say that Gerry's gone for in the grave he lies
But so long as we strive for liberty Gerry Gilmore will never die.
Gerard Gilmore was a 19 year old Official IRA Volunteer from Belfast. He was shot dead on 13 July 1976 outside the Boundary Bar in North Belfast near the Bawnmore area, a particularly dangerous, isolated Nationalist enclave. The Boundary Bar was a frequent target for sectarian attacks, and Gilmore was on duty to protect the pub and its occupants from Loyalist attacks. For this cause he gave his life. The tune of the song is ''The Valley Of Knockanure ''
It was in the year of '76 in the summer of that year
The Boundary Bar was guarded by a single Volunteer
His name was Gerry Gilmore and he stood his watch that night
To guard the lives of workers from the butchers of the Right.
He was a lad of nineteen years but England's power he fought
A Socialist Republic was the goal for which he sought
He loved the people of his land and the workers of Belfast town
But the murderers feared this brave young man and so they gunned him down.
The Boundary Bar in North Belfast was a dangerous place to be
The UVF they ringed it round bent on a murder spree
The people gathered there to drink, the news to tell or hear
Content they were well guarded by that Sticky Volunteer.
The Boundary Bar near Bawnmore the murderes said must go
"Twas owned by a Catholic family as all of them did know
Many times they planned to blow it up or burn it to the ground
But they dared not try to do it 'til they shot young Gerry down.
The thugs crept up on Gerry for they meant to shoot him dead
He heard a sound, he turned around as the bullet struck his head
He'd not time to raise his weapon for alas it was too late
And by a cowardly murder Gerry Gilmore met his fate.
Young Gerry was not a militarist, but to fight he did not fear
To work for Revolution he'd become a Volunteer
To guard the people of Belfast, this was his chosen task
He gave his life, 'twas all he had, for more we could not ask.
His funeral marched to Milltown as manys the one before
In silent grief the people came from out of every door
There's some who'll say that Gerry's gone for in the grave he lies
But so long as we strive for liberty Gerry Gilmore will never die.