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Your Irish Soldier Boy


“Out of Ireland have we come.
Great hatred, little room,
Maimed us at the start.
I carry from my mother's womb
A fanatic heart.”
-W.B Yeats

A promise is made, quietly, reverently, in a camp in Azzano.

"When all this is over, Buck, we'll get out. You and me, go to Ireland, leave the rest of the world behind. Like Ma always said."
"To hell or to hills, Stevie."

A playlist for our Irish Soldier Boys, who somehow find their way back home.

23 tracks
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