I went to see a legend just the other night,
At the Yankee Stadium, underneath the light,
I heard an old man speaking, after years and years in jail,
His name was Nelson Mandela and he came to tell his tale.

The crowd they cheered him loudly, ah, but then the silence fell,
As he spoke about the hard years in a South African cell,
And though he was free, his heart was filled with pain,
For his country and his people were still part of that shame.

He hoped that we would join him and walk down freedom's path,
And these roads would be the hardest, oh, but they would be the last,
And to join our hands together so that we might be as one,
And to bring ourselves to the cause so his battle could be won.

I went to bed that evening, fell asleep and I had a dream,
I was standing in the pouring rain, in an Irish field of green,
And all around the headstones of the martyrs of the past,
I stood there in silence, and they spoke to me at last.

"Kevin Barry is my name, and I was tortured in my cell,
For they wanted the names of my comrades, oh, but this I could not tell",
"And I am Roger Casement, and I was hung in London Town,
For bringing German rifles to the lonely Banna Strand."

"And James Connolly is my name, the working people are my life,
But they shot me down in Kilmainham Jail with strife",
"And I am Pádraig Pearse, I was shot down by the foe,
I read the proclamation at the steps of the GPO."

And the last voice that I heard he says, "My name is Bobby Sands,
And it's good to hear Mandela's words they are ringing through the land,
I want to hear them in Belfast, in Derry and Tyrone,
Maybe then those English soldiers will know it's time to go home."

I woke up from my dream and I remember them all,
And who would believe that they knocked down the Berlin Wall?
I said, "Oh, Mandela, could this really be?
Maybe now we will see Ireland reunited and free",
"Maybe now we will see Ireland reunited and free.".