Silence invaded the poorly lit room and all movement of sound quickly stopped.
You could feel the white smoke from each lit cigarette and were shocked by the ash as it dropped!
The force of the words from the leader´s thin lips echoed loudly from each shaking wall.
And all of the persons who sat in the room were like animals chained in their stalls.

„It´s the wickedest spell and the worst kind of curse that ever a land`s ever known,
And everyone born within these great shores has been cut by this knife to the bone!
This devil of water has made us all slaves as in his dark hell we did sink.
We´ve been prisoners of war for centures past, since the English forced us to drink!

This cancerous deamon caused famine and death as our minds and our bodies were numbed.
Leaving hardly a trace of a once mighty race as like wimpering dogs we succumbed!
We were children bewitched by the peidpiper´s song as he lead us along his grey path.
And we gladly rushed on to our watery grave, nameless victims of alcohol´s wrath!

And even today in these prosperous times when we seem to have shaken all gloom,
This viporous snake is still rapped ´round our necks, yes he slithers within this small room!
We work hard by day and we drink hard by night, we are helpless; a desperate plight.
We are burning the candle at each of its ends, birds; soon to be shot down in flight!

Don´t think my brave comerades that history is past and that now we control our own fate.
There is still time to act for our proud country´s sake, let us wake up before it´s to late!
I have laid out a plan which if we carry out, I´m convinced we can still save the day.“
Said Paddy O´Grady, patriot and bomber and brain of the IRA!

„Let us strike with all force at that symbol of power which has all of our souls in
its grasp!
Let us blow to the sky the brewery of Guinness as we try to correct our dark past!
Then we´ll launch a campagne on the terrors of drink and slowly we´ll win back our soul.
We have fought many battles both large and both small with this as our ultimate goal!“

Paddy O´Grady was feared and respected, when he spoke one must always take heed!
And his mates all well knew they must go with his flow for he always combined word with deed!
And sealed was the fate of the one who backed out or tried to convince him he´s wrong,
For this person was found on the cold barren ground, having sung the last verse of life´s song!

Like the general he was he laid out his plan, brilliant strategy; no room to guess!
And his battle scarred mates were awed by its power, but shocked by the thought of success!
Yes Guinness was English, and Guinness was poison, but poison that tasted so good!
They had always been loyal and followed his whip, but they questioned if this time they could.

They marched on in silence and carried his coffin, in the air there was no sense of myrth.
The crowd was immense which witnessed the moment his body was laid in the earth.
On his tombstone was written „gunned down from behind, murdered! one cold, lonely night.“
Then his mates all withdrew to the warmth of a pub, convinced that their actions were right!