I walked the streets of Prague
In glorious sunshine, time to pass
I intended to, but never got round
To visiting a church, attending mass
But every step that I took
As I toured the city there
To see the glory created by God
Was in its own way a better prayer.
It is hard to believe that tanks rolled
These streets, a people to crush
A people who desired freedom
And reveled in its first flush
But that is the tale of this town
And it is nothing new
For when a nation by others is controlled
Its what the masters do.
Even in Dublin war waged
A long long time ago
And like Prague of the Spring of 68
That it happened you’d never know.
Every town has its scars
And every city has its history sad
And every city has times past and to come
That are both good and are bad…
