Those far fields

I listened to the next Irish song be sing  by people every day, every hour, over the worst circumstances. A richman was walking alone after send a young to the jail. He doesn't lose the control about poor workers, poor students and poor children; he hadn't problems with that lonely piece of corn, but he liked to show them who is the powerful here, althought these people have raised a country and only the servants of money have sunk a economy to be satisfied by this yellow piss.

The small freebirds will fly the sky looking for its green benches where they can see the desperate steps of insatiable drunker who also would like paint what we saw for

Bloomsday in Dublin, the governors cannot drive people traveling through a day that is a life. Perhaps this day, Guinnes drinkers sing this song:

The fields of Athenry, Paddy Reilly; looking for your own happiness

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling,
'Michael, they are taking you away.
For you stole Trevelyan's corn,
So the young might see the morn,
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.'

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the
small freebirds fly.
Our love was on the wing,
We had dreams and songs to sing
it's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
'Nothing matters, Mary when you're free
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, They ran me down,
Now you must raise our child with dignity.'

By a lonely harbour wall,
As she watched the last star falling
As the prison ship said out against the sky
For she lived in hope and prayed,
For her love in Botany Bay
it's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry