Michael Bloomberg, Mayor of New York, unveiled a memorial at Ballymote, Co. Sligo, on August 22nd to Brigadier General Michael Corcoran, founder commander of the 69th US infantry regiment—the "Fighting Irish". Corcoran came from the area. Local anti-war spokesman, Tim Mulcahy, said: "We had no problem originally with the Mayor's visit to Sligo, but we were very concerned about his recent comments in support of Israel".

His support of Israel should be taken for granted. What about his refusal to deal with the New York Transport Workers' Union, an Irish institution if ever there was one, and the jailing of its leader?

And what about the "Fighting 69th" itself? If ever there was cannon fodder it was the Irish in the US Civil War. They had hardly set foot on Ellis Island but they were put into uniform and marched against the enemy cannons. That is still their role in the thick of things in Baghdad. The song below is a welcome antidote to the usual slushy ballads about the Irish in America.

Well it's by the hush, me boys, and sure that's to hold your noise
And listen to poor Paddy's sad narration
I was by hunger stressed, and in poverty distressed
So I took a thought I'd leave the Irish nation

Well I sold me ass and cow, my little pigs and sow
My little plot of land I soon did part with
And me sweetheart Bid McGee, I'm afraid I'll never see
For I left her there that morning broken - hearted

Here's you boys, now take my advice
To America I'll have ye's not be going
There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

Well myself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er
Our fortunes to be making we were thinkin'
When we got to Yankee land, they put guns into our hands
"Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln"

Here's you boys, now take my advice
To America I'll have ye's not be going
There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

General Meagher to us he said, if you get shot or lose your head
Every murdered soul of youse will get a pension
Well in the war I lost me leg, they gave me a wooden peg
And my soul it is the truth to you I mention

Here's you boys, now take my advice
To America I'll have ye's not be going
There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

Well I think myself in luck, if I get fed on Indianbuck
And old Ireland is the country I delight in
To the devil, I would say, it's curse Americay
For the truth I've had enough of your hard fightin

Here's you boys, now take my advice
To America I'll have ye's not be going
There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar
And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin
I wish I was at home
I wish I was at home
I wish I was at home
I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin

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