Lorca's Novena Lyrics - Pogues

Ignacio lay dying in the sand 

A single red rose clutched in a dying hand 

The women wept to see their hero die 

And the big black birds gathered in the sky 

Mother of all our joys 

Mother of all our sorrows 

Intercede with him tonight 

For all of our tomorrows 

The years went by and then the killers came 

And took the men and marched them up the hill of pain 

And Lorca, the faggot poet they left till last 

Blew his brains out with a pistol up his arse 

Mother of all our joys 

Mother of all our sorrows 

Intercede with him tonight 

For all of our tomorrows 

The killers came to mutilate the dead 

But ran away in terror to search the town instead 

But Lorca's corpse, as he had prophesied, just walked away 

And the only sound was the women in the chapel praying 

Mother of all our joys 

Mother of all our sorrows 

Intercede with him tonight 

For all of our tomorrows