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Somewhere, Mick's waiting for that well-earned pint of Guinness to settle just perfectly.

Somewhere, Paddy's getting into a brawl just for the hell of it.

Somewhere, McCarthy's about to step into another bar with his name on it.

Somewhere, there's a red-headed, green-eyed, cheekily freckled, fine Irish lass, about to walk out the front door and break a thousand hearts.

Somewhere, there's a craggy old man perched atop a craggy old hill, thinking about the first days of The Troubles.

Somewhere there's one hell of a beef stew being dished out.

Somewhere the story of the potato famine is being learned by yet another generation.

Somewhere a British soldier is thanking God it's all over. for now.

Somewhere, there's a curmudgeonly Indian writer perched at his keyboard, seeking salvation at the bottom of a bottle of Bushmills, thinking of all these other somewheres every time he hears this track.