Crashintome
Clansmen
It's muddy along the banks of Mystic River
in the time of angry flags strewn from poles
on Winter Hill
The day is raw as raw with hints of strong whiskey
from our mother's isle and speaks to my senses
the miles of green hills and sheep.
Sheep that herd like clansmen from hundreds of years
before, that rumble the only sound from the rolling emeralds
Where has our heart gone in South Boston during this angry time
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Clansmen
Clansmen
