Tribute to Luke Kelly

He was the son they never had,
And he took me down Raglan Road,
Though I'd never stepped on Dublin's land,
It felt like I bore his lode,
He was born covered in dust,
Cobwebs held tight improvershed hands,
But the strands soon took way to strings,
And he saw the sun engulf the land,
Cigarrete smoke was on his whiskers,
And he sang of ghosts as martyrs,
And they possesed his raspy voice,
Where the liquor and smoke ebb like myrrh

He sang because he was the common man,
Not for a life full wealth and power,
Free the people, let them speak,
He preached that we can overpower,
It was God's sacred word upon his tongue,
And he did not die with his sickness,
In his last days, a voice of angels,
He shed the folklore of nobelesse