Belfast To Boston (god's Rifle) - James Taylor

There are rifles buried 
In the countryside for 
The rising of the moon,
May they lie there 
Long forgotten till 
They rust away into the ground.
Who will bend this ancient hatred, 
Will the killing to an end?
Who will swallow long injustice, 
Take the devil for a country man?
Who will say "this far no further, 
Oh lord, if I die today?"

Send no weapons 
No more money. 
Send no vengeance 
Across the seas,
Just the blessing 
Of forgiveness 
For my new countryman and me.

Missing brothers, 
Martyred fellows, 
Silent children 
In the ground.
Could we but hear them 
Could they not tell us 
"Time to lay God's rifle down."
Who will say, 
"this far, no further," 
Oh Lord, if I die today?