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The legendary U2 Popmart live from Mexico City is now available on DVD!
Yesterday in 1979
Moonlight Club, West Hampstead
1980
Hammersmith Odeon, London
1981
The Agora, Atlanta
1982
Tiffany's, Glasgow
1983
Best Hit USA, Tokyo
1984
Tower Theater, Upper Darby
1989
Osaka Castle Hall, Osaka
1993
Lancaster Park, Christchurch
2001
Ice Palace, Tampa
2002
University of Nebraska, Lincoln
2006
TV Asahi Studios, Tokyo
Today in 1979
Nashville Rooms, London
1980
Hammersmith Palais, London
1981
Vanderbilt University, Nashville
1982
Apollo Theater, Manchester
1984
The Centrum, Worcester
1997
Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, Mexico City
2001
American Airlines Arena, Miami
2001
American Airlines Arena, Miami
2004
BBC Studios, London
Tomorrow in 1979
100 Club, Clapham
1980
Baltard Pavilion, Paris
1982
De Montfort Hall, Leicester
1984
WBCN Studios, Boston
1984
Radio City Music Hall, New York
1987
Orange Bowl, Miami
1993
BFM - Student Radio, Auckland
1997
Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, Mexico City
New U2 photos
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September 1913 (lyrics)
Poem by William Butler Yeats
Show all 618 song names in database.
This song has been played 6 times as full song or snippet.
This song has been played at the following 2 shows:
Various Dates
· 1989-04-30 - Dublin, Ireland - Abbey Theatre
· 2003-12-04 - Washington, District of Columbia - Library of Congress
This song has been snippeted at the following 4 shows:
ZOO TV Tour
· 1992-05-31 - London, England - Earl's Court Arena (21 songs)
· 1992-06-01 - Birmingham, England - National Exhibition Centre (22 songs)
· 1992-06-04 - Dortmund, Germany - Westfalenhalle (22 songs)
· 1992-06-13 - Kiel, Germany - Ostseehalle (21 songs)
September 1913 lyrics
What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
You have dried the marrow from the bone;
For men were born to pray and save;
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet they were of a different kind,
The names that stilled your childish play,
They have gone about the world like wind,
But little time had they to pray
For whom the hangman's rope was spun,
And what, God help us, could they save?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Was it for this the wild geese spread
The grey wing upon every tide;
For this that all that blood was shed,
For this Edward Fitzgerald died,
And Robert Emmet and Wolfe Tone,
All that delirium of the brave?
Romantic Ireland's dead and gone,
It's with O'Leary in the grave.
Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You'd cry `Some woman's yellow hair
Has maddened every mother's son':
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they're dead and gone,
They're with O'Leary in the grave.
Poem by William Butler Yeats
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