The Troops Come On With Bayonets Fixed Pushing The People To The Mountain’s Lip Poem by Sean Joyce

In a dream I walk in the times gone by
On the western edge of a heartbreak shore
When sleep’s dark fears are howling ‘round
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world

Near the edge of the cliff there’s an angry
crowd with hungry faces crowding around
’fear in their eyes when they hear the drum
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world

The troops come on with bayonets fixed
Pushing the people to the mountain’s lip
A cry goes out as the first goes down
in the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world

In my dream I walk in the times gone by
As close to the edge as my fears allow
in the air there's a prayer for pity and revenge
In the bitter bitter dark of a cold wet world