Christy Moore
As we I walked over the Glenshane Pass I heard a young woman mourn
The boy from Tamlaghduff she said is ten years dead and gone
How my heart is torn apart this young man to lose
We’ll never see the likes again of young Francis Hughes
For many years his exploits were a thorn in England’s side
The hills and glens became his home it was there he used to hide
Often when surrounded he’d quietly slip away
Like a fox he went to ground and kept the dogs of war at bay
Francis and three volunteers were coming around the pass
When they were confronted by a squad of SAS
The volunteers gave all they had till Francis took two rounds
He gave the order to retreat and wounded went to ground
The UDR and RUC came with their tracker dogs
In their hundreds hunted him across the farms and bogs
When he was too weak to move they captured him at last
And from the countryside he loved they brought him to Belfast
From Musgrave Park to Crumlin Road then to a H-Block cell
He went straight on the blanket then on hunger strike as well
Although his weapon had been changed to a blanket from a gun
He wielded it courageously as the hunger strike begun
As his young life ebbed away we helplessly looked on
On the twelfth of May the black flags lay in 1981
Deep mourning around Tamlaghduff has turned to burning pride
Francis fought them every day he lived and fought them as he died
As I walked over the Glenshane Pass I heard a young woman mourn
The boy from Tamlaghduff she said is ten years dead and gone
How my heart is torn apart this young man to lose
We’ll never see the likes again of young Francis Hughes.