The heroes of the masses they live for their renown
And the masses create their heroes and then drag their heroes down
And the masses are unpredictable they change from day to day
And some of their heroes like the Autumn flowers are quick to fade away.
Ned Kelly was a hero and despite what some do say
The legend of his bravery in Australia lives today
As game as Ned Kelly is a well known Aussie quote
The leader of the Kelly gang remains as one of note.
Suppose we all do look at things differently
The hero to you not a hero to me
Your hero renowned for his skills at football
Yet the hero to some not a hero to all
Where he lives none does help you when you are down
The one out of work in the poor side of town
A young man in his early twenties with life struggling to cope
Though of finding employment he is not without hope.
If you judge him do not judge him harshly or why judge him at all
Since the darkest of memories are his to recall
Many of his comrades around him under gunfire did fall
Their names to be seen on War Memorial wall.
He always wears his war medals on his coat of them he feels so proud
And he has a hearing problem the reason he talks so loud
He says I'm a World war hero of which some don't wish to know
Of a battle fought in Europe more than six decades ago.
In the big fire at Mancini's their house and it's contents were destroyed
And the story of their bad luck it has travelled far and wide
But the story it would have been worse if human lives were lost
Though the financial damage to the family it comes at a great cost.
From Meelin he came to Millstreet Town to die
For Ireland with a bullet in hie eye
And though more than eighty years since then have come and gone
The name of brave McCarthy still lives on.
He fell in a battle from here far away
But in his native earth his remains now lay
The war that he fought in by his side not won
And the aged mother she still grieves the loss of her son.
Most boys have their sporting heroes and mine played Gaelic Football
The mighty Mick O Connell the greatest I recall
But Mick O played for Kerry and Cork my favourite team
And to play football good as him was many school boy's dream
Many people the praises of warriors do sing
And they talk of war as if war is a good thing
There are tears in their eyes when the last post is played
And proudly they march in every war parade
He has just turned fifty his fastest pace slow
He is not the man he was twenty years ago
When they used to toast him at the local pub
And he was the hero of the football club
Ten years ago he was a hero a parade for him in the Town
But now he is seen as a has been they built him up and dragged him down
Where are they now when he most needs them him they no longer wish to know
He now is one of the forgotten their hero of a decade ago.
Your Greatest achievement to some may seem small
But what is a great to many does not apply to all
On what constitutes success no two feel the same
Since not everyone see an achievement in being a celebrity and being one of wealth and fame
Farewell to the hero he has played his last game
Though the club without him may not be the same
His best days as a footballer one can say had been gone
But in the minds of the fans his fame will live on
In Millstreet in Duhallow Inter-County hurlers to say the least rare
In the history of their Club thus far only one hurling player
The red senior jersey of Cork does wear
With young Mark Ellis in Millstreet they have no other good hurler to for to compare
If you are an elite sportsperson you are seen as worthy of fame
And many want to talk about you and many know of you by name
They don't ask of the values that you hold or of what sort of person you are
Though some of the unknowns who live in their neighbourhood than you as people better by far
That he is not a Nationalist or Patriot he will not deny
Such tags he will tell you to him do not apply
He is never there to watch the war parade pass by
Nor the flag of his Nation in his front yard he doesn't fly.
The man who owned the stud stallions Rambling Boy and Rising Light
And who was widely known as the man to kill the blight
In fancy i do see Denny Murray today
On horse drawn sprayer spraying the potato gardens from here far away
A brave man among brave men the patriots of him did say
Ten years ago he returned as a hero from a war far away
In his honor for him a huge street parade
But sometimes hero worship has been known to fade
Those who are great to you do not seem great to me
On our heroes and heroines we do not agree
My heroine in her mid sixties is one who leads by good example in life
Though she is not anyone's mother or anyone's wife
As in all types of sport as in all codes of football
As in all aspects of life the winner takes all
Of the glory the adulation and the fame
And the loser left with the tag of the forgotten name
Dismissed in the town as a never do well
And without any achievements in life of for to tell
One of the local community's marginalized
But people like him as is known have surprised
Fortheft to the local police he is known
The type any local would not claim as one of our own
For shoplifting he has spent some time in jail
The good character test he is one who does fail
His name will never be on a war memorial wall
For to arms he did not answer the Nation's call
His motto is live for as long as you can
Hero worship is worthless to a dead woman or man,
He was a champion athlete when he was in his prime
But now his face is wrinkled the mark of father time
The years have left him weary and silver gray his hair
His best years are behind him he seems the worst for wear
The greatness of the greats we well may recall
But the hero to many not a hero to all
Not everyone holds big names in high esteem
Some are not easy to impress it does seem
Though he never does walk in the annual town war war memorial parade
He was a brave soldier where heroes are made
On a retirement pension and feeling mentally down
An aging war hero in a suburban town
So much about his courage we have heard of and read
So sad about the brave man so sad to hear he's dead
A decorated soldier from a war far away
The Reaper claimed the life from him suppose he had his day
The town's man of the year in nineteen sixty one
From the goal he kicked after the siren the Premiership was won
On Grand Final day he was the best on the ground
Back then men like him were quite hard to be found
He died bravely under gunfire that much of him we do know
But on the dead hero's grave only wildflowers do grow
His life ended on a battle field many decades ago
And he did not live on for time to become his foe
From the top of achievements ladder many everyday fall
And the hero to some is not a hero to all
It is a long climb to the summit of renown
With some only happy for to drag you down
He and his mate were rescued from their cage in a collapsed mine shaft a few years ago
And of the story of their rescue the World came to know
But so disappointed am I for to hear
That he spends his weekends hunting and shooting at deer.
The one who is hailed by the masses will never be a hero to you
Your hero is a quiet achiever to his dedications he's true
An honest and a hard working person and one of high integrity
You have placed him on a pedestal to you there's none greater than he.
At his graveside memorial the last post was played
And a very fine speech in his honour was made
By a famed army general who is known far and wide
For a brave old ex soldier who of old age had died.
By the way you talk of your hero one would swear out of him the sun shine
Don''t try to convince me of his worth your hero will never be mine
To me your hero is responsible of crimes against humanity
Because of him thousands have died and thousands more maimed and injured why do you talk of him to me.
He died a true hero but now that he is dead
He cannot hear the nice things of him said
Grieved by his friends, parents and his family
The friend, son and brother they will never more see
The news became big news and travelled far and wide
That the great sporting hero had suddenly died
He was buried with honours and at his graveside
The club President spoke of one who brought honour and pride
The band it was playing 'Advance Australia Fair'
And balloons were floating in the balmy Summer air
And the recently returned war hero led the big street parade
Where the gunfire rang loud a name for himself he had made.
Four years ago celebrated in poetry and song
The one who was seen as one who could not do wrong
But nowadays his praises the masses don't sing
Amazing the changes that a few years can bring.
He say George Bush his hero but with him I don't agree
For George Bush bombers killed thousands just to set Kuwait free
And Saddam been defeated and two Countries been destroyed
And George Bush and John Major in allied victory take pride.
The people you call patriots put a gun to peoples head
And warn them if you try to run then we will shoot you dead
The Government elected by the Figian people they held at point of gun
But by such acts of cowardice respect is never won.
He was hero of my childhood in the distant long ago
When I was a young schoolgoer forty five years back or so,
He cut timber for a living in the rain and hail and snow
And weather seemed to make no difference to the mighty Willie Joe.
The final old hero has faded away
His bones even beyond the state of decay
He gave rise to many a patriotic song
But to Mother Nature he finally belong.
We are living in an age when top sports people and top actors are grossly overpaid
And too much of those with celebrity status by the masses is made
We make small gods out of people who seem very ordinary
But having said that everyone is different and we see things differently.
He is a cruel hearted old bugger and bad things about him been said
But the saddest thing of all about it is that he may die as an old man in his bed
With his children and grandchildren gathered around him as for his soul they kneel in prayer
Such a thought does not seem very pleasant yet life can seem very unfair.
In her eyes he's a marvellous super man
And her daddy is the greatest to seven years old Ann
And she tells all who listen there is nothing Dad can't do
But others they think differently each to their point of view.
If your hero is Steve Waugh the cricket player I must say that suits me fine
But I've heard enough about him since your hero isn't mine,
My hero lives much nearer his house is across the street
And his name is Jack Iversen a man I often meet.
It's been seventy years if not more since Andy was school going boy
Since he played hide and seek with his mates in the old park of Fitzroy
But the years have flown so quickly his once brown hair silvery gray
And on looking back his young years seem like only yesterday.