Mostrar 9503 resultados

Quote from a parody of Thomas Campbell's 'The Exile of Erin' transcribed by Liam Ó [Dulchaointigh], Tintown No 3 Camp, who ascribes this version to Rudyard Kipling:

'There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin
the dew on his thin robes was heavy and chill
Ere the dust from his brogues he fully had shaken
He was Member of Parliament introducing a Bill.

Verse transcribed by Vincent Burke, Hut 12, No 3 Tintown camp:

'What is life?
Ah who can say!
Clouds upon a summer day
Gone tomorrow, here today
Gift of heaven come to stay
Who can say?

What is death
Ah no-one knows!
Words that cease and eyes that close
Something sweeter that repose
Just away that each one goes
Where God knows!

What is Love?
Ah who can tell!
Sometimes heaven, sometimes hell
Neither wholly ill or well
All would buy, but who can sell?
Who can tell?

Quote by Patrick Pearse transcribed by Seosamh Mac Dáibhéid, Tintown No 3 Camp, on the second day of the [hunger] strike ('An dara lá de'n stailc'):

'Life springs from death, and from the graves of patriot men and women spring living nations.'

Verse by T. P. Duke transcribed by Tomás Ó Dúigh (Clare), Rath Camp:

'The Strike
Act 1
A rush. A cheer. A bursting of doors
with bedboard or with spike
Locks flying in Air, Ah! it's the
Boys in camp have gone on strike
The Guard called out their wind is up
in vain they bawl and shout
but the Boys don't seem to mind them
in groups they walk about.'

Verse transcribed by M. Corcoran at Harbour St., Tullamore with dedication 'For M. E. Lennon' , (Mary Lennon, sister of John Lennon)

Popular verse transcribed by Becky O'Reilly, Carrick-on-Shannon, Co. Leitrim.

Verse transcribed by P. Bracken, Internee 3362 (Clonaslee, Laois), Hut 12, Tintown Camp:

'Remember me when this you see
Remember me forever
And don't forget the days we spent
in Tintown together'

Verse transcribed by M. Galvin, Tintown No 3 Camp:

'Silent and cold thou art now at rest
'Neath the sanctified sod, in the land thou loved best
Thro' tears and thro' sighs we think of the same
That the traitors have placed on Ireland's fair name
Oh! Rory O Connor thy name and thy story
Are engraved in our hearts and crowned there with glory.
Tho' thy pulse has stopped beating thy shade is to-day
With the loved ones who perished that old
Ireland might say
Tho' grim death awaits us we'll have not a sigh
For our own motto is Freedom for that Freedom we'll die
On the green sod of Erin, our life's blood will flow
Until Ireland a nation conquers the foe.'