THE NATION OF THE DOWNCAST EYE

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We are the nation of the downcast eye,

We guard our thoughts and tongue.

Ours is the gruff and the sullen tribe,

For we know that the trap has sprung.

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We know full well, though we dare not tell,

That we live by the rulers’ creed,

He will dull the blade and relax the rein,

But he’ll curb and will mix our seed.

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We are the folk who are penned by law,

It’s the curb for the men who would,

But we always note that the sweet refrain,

Will be claimed for the common good?

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Ours is the lot that may come and go,

We are free, so our rulers say.

We break our hearts; it is not the same,

Tongue is tied, and our feet are clay.

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 You hear our laugh, but it’s not like yours.

For its dulled by the cynic’s thought.

And the smile is not in the eyes you see,

It is fixed by the victor’s court.

Some are fair but no longer rule,

Some are old, but they’re young at heart,

We’re now the folk of the shifty eye,

And we speak of the fraud as art.

We are the tribe of the fettered tongue,

And our mirror-minds will tell,

Of the rulers’ view that it’s good for you –

And we find that they pay us well.

​The young who spring from the loins of men,

Of the nation of the downcast eye,

Are the slaves to another thought and whim

But they live only when they die.

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We are the nation of the downcast eye,

We guard our thoughts and tongue.

Ours is the gruff and the sullen tribe,

For we know that the trap has sprung.

Michael Walsh Ballads

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