“Men Without Souls”

From “The Stunning” in 1993, this song was about “the spate of paramilitary punishment shootings and beatings in the north of Ireland throughout the Troubles.”


I’m tired of all that
I’m tired of all that
I’m tired of the talks
About talks about talks
While the guns have their say

I’m sick to the teeth
Yeah i’m sick to the teeth
Some men are so ill
They can butcher and kill
For what they believe

I cried when i read
There’s a boy nearly dead
They shot him with holes
And then broke a few bones
Aren’t you tough men?

Do you dream in your sleep?
Do you dream in your sleep?
You left him half dead
And you went home to bed
Your wife brushed your coat
And she made you some toast
Can you hear him moan?

Men without souls
Men without souls
The whole world is filled with them
Dragging their filth with them
Madmen will kill for them
And their mothers still feel for them
Men without souls



“An Extraordinary Miasma of Untruth”

“There’s no them. There’s only us.”

I first read Dervla Murphy’s book “A Place Apart: Northern Ireland in the 1970s” over twenty years ago for a class on the anthropology of Ireland. In it, she described her conversations with people from various perspectives in Northern Ireland (Catholic and Protestant, etc.).

To be honest, so much time has gone by that I’ve forgotten much of it, but every once in a while certain segments come back to me. The part that returns to me the most, particularly of late, is this:

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