We run along, and we come up with this idea to go down to the stream and check it out for fish
So we're down by the river, downstream
There's half a foot of water in there

Little silver fish, but nothing substantial, until one of their boys calls us further down
Lying in the water is a wee foal, four or five days old
He's all skin and bones, gray collar, and he's got flecks of blood on his coat, 'cause he's cut himself up really badly on the sharp rocks

We're just standing over him and you can see his back leg's snapped
And he's breathing, he's alive, but just about
So this big conversation gets started up between the boys who suddenly reckon themselves the leaders, and they're deliberating as to what we should do

Someone says "Drop a rock on his head", but I'm looking in their faces and I can see they're either scared stiff or clueless; it's all bravado
And this foal on the ground, in real pain, all this chitchat going on, going nowhere. Next thing, one of the priests sees us, sees the foal, tells us not to move and we're done for, really done for
Group of boys will always get the blame for hurting a foal

Group of Belfast boys will get a hammering for sure
So it's clear to me in an instant, and I'm down on my knees, and I take the foal's head in my hands and I put him underwater
He's thrashing around a bit to start, so I press down harder until he's drowned

Priest arrives, though
He's grabbing me by the hair, dragging me through the woods, promising me a proper punishment, but I knew I did the right thing by that wee foal, and I could take the punishment for all our boys
I had the respect of them other boys now, and I knew that

I'm clear of the reasons
Dom. I'm clear of all the repercussions.
But I will act, and I will not stand by and do nothing