|From the Trinity Sinn Féin website (currently down)
by Bobby Sands
Oh! Cold March winds your cruel laments
Are hard on prisoners' hearts,
For you bring my mother's pleading cries
From whom I have to part.
I hear her weeping lonely sobs
Her sorrows sweep me by,
And in the dark of prison cell
A tear has warmed my eye.
Oh! Whistling winds why do you weep
When roaming free you are,
Oh! Lonely winds that walk the night
To haunt the sinner's soul
Pray pity me a wretched lad
Who never will grow old.
Pray pity those who lie in pain
The bondsman and the slave,
And whisper sweet the breath of God
Upon my humble grave.
Oh! Cold March winds that pierce the dark
You cry in aged tones
For souls of folk you've brought to God
But still you bear the moans.
Oh! Weeping wind this lonely night
My mother's heart is sore,
Oh! Lord of all breathe freedom's breath
That she may weep no more.