Rebel Songbook LM
Long March To Derry,The
Last House In Our Street
Last Night I Had A Happy Dream
Legion Of The Rearguard
Let Erin Remember
Let The People Sing
Lid Of My Granny's Bin
Limb Of The Law,The
Little Drummer Boy
London's Derry
Lonely Woods Of Upton
Long Held In Chains
Long Kesh
Long March To Derry,The
Loughall Ambush,The
Lough Sheelin Eviction
Mairéad Farrell
Man From God-Knows-Where,The
Man From Mullingar
Man From The Daily Mail,The
Martin Hurson
Masters Of War
McElwee's Farewell
McVerry's Men
Meet Me At The Pillar
Memory Of The Dead,The
Men Behind The Wire
Men Of Easter Week
Men Of '81
Men Of The West
Merry Ploughboy
Michael Divine
Michael Collins
Michael Dwyer
Minstrel Boy,The
Mountains Of Pomeroy,The
Murray And McDonald
My Father Once Said To Me
My Heart Is In Ireland
My Last Farewell
My Little Armalite
My Old Man
My Youngest Son Came Home Today

The Long March To Derry

It was on the first day of the year in 1969
We gathered at the City Hall, the weather being fine.
With McCann in front to lead us, Michael Farrell in the van
Off on the long march to Derry.

Hurrah, hurrah, we proudly marched along,
Hurrah, hurrah, we sang our marching song:
The battle cry of liberty went ringing loud and clear
All on the long march to Derry.

As we marched to Antrim Town, the bridge we found was blocked
There stood a certain major with a feather in his cap;
"No Fenian foot shall e'er pollute this sacred ground we hold
We'll soon stop your long march to Derry".

Now Toomebridge Town was good, we found; the people stood and cheered
And everyone supported us whenever we appeared.
We crossed the bridge where McCorley died with our banners flyin' high
Off on the long march to Derry.

They ambushed us at Irish Street and at Burntollett, too,
And the air was thick with stones and bricks, and the missiles fairly flew.
But we got up and struggled on, though battered black and blue,
To finish the long march to Derry.

Well, now the march is over, we can lay our banners down
For the world has seen what Ulster's like while loyal to the Crown.
And generations yet unborn will live to toast the boys
Who went on the long march to Derry.