With a rebel yell - improved lyrics for our future

NEWTON'S OPTIC:AS IRELAND enters a new age of foreign oppression, new rebel songs will clearly be required. The Irish Timesbrings you some early contenders for the popular anthems of the next 800 years.

Only our Rivers are Liquid

When Apple and Intel are blooming

When money again grows on trees

When call centres don’t leave for China

It’s then that our land will be free

I wander her high streets and alleys

And still through my sorrow I see

A land that has never known freedom

And now belongs to the damn ECB.

Down south They Carry On Owin’

’Twas on a dreary New Year’s Eve

As prices were marked down

A traffic jam of shoppers crawled towards a Border town

There were cars from Dublin and from Cork, diverted through Athlone

And a lot of cars from Limerick. Down south they carry on owin’.

Van Diemen’s Land

Hold me now, oh hold me now

Till this hour has gone around

And I’m gone on the rising tide

For to face Van Diemen’s land

It’s a bitter pill I swallow here

To be rent from one so dear

But we can keep in touch on Facebook

I’ll text you from Hobart arrivals.

The Ghost Estates of Athenry

Low lie the ghost estates of Athenry

Once everyone thought they were so fly

Our mortgage was agreed

Now we are in social need

It’s so lonely ’round the ghost estates of Athenry.

The Men behind the Bailout

German banks and pension funds

Came to take outrageous sums

But every man must stand behind

The men behind the bailout

Not for them a judge and jury

Nor an open court at all

Being Irish means you’re liable

So we’re liable one and all.

Come Out Brian Lenihan

Oh, come out Brian Lenihan

Come out and face us like a man

Don’t hide behind the Credit Institutions Act, section 60

Tell us how AIB made you give it our savings for free

On top of an IMF loan from Ajai Chopra.

Kevin Borrow

In Dublin one Monday morning

As a Cabinet session was ending

The young were indebted for life

In the cause of public spending

Just a tad over 18 billion

Still there’s no one can deny

As they ran from the unions that morning

They kept their own pension pot high.

The Patriot Game

My name is Ahern, and I’ve just turned 55

My home is in Dundalk, which is a terrible dive

All my life I chased after political clout

But suddenly I’ve retired, so you sort it out.

The Helicopter Candidate Song

Early one evening as the branchmen were sleeping

A helicopter candidate dropped in from the sky

Down into Louth where ex-prisoners were waiting

“Get ready for Gerry” the Shinners did cry.

The Toys of the EU Brigade

Oh, father why are you so sad

On this bright Easter morn’

When Irish men are proud and glad

Of the land where they were born?

Oh, son, I see in memory’s view

A far-off distant day

When being just a lad like you

I joined the European exchange rate mechanism.