The time has come, the dawn of freedom’s day,

Above the G.P.O your Tricolour

O, Ireland! Flutters high and free at last

Britannia is defied, the die is cast.

The lion roars, up rising is this wrath.

Riffles speak sharply. England’s host come on.

Warships rush up the Liffey, big guns booming.

Artillery talks. Treat shells coming crashing down.

Each day is a nightmare. the fight grows fiercer, fiercer.

O, Dublin mountains! O, ye peaks of Wicklow!

Did you not thrill, and in amazement wonder?

Did you not marvel at the war-god’s thunder?

Once wrote a big man – the great Gaels of Ireland

Are mad. The Gaels of Easter were mad.

If madness means to live and die for the cause;

Like patriots to love, to suffer like martyrs

To battle for happy homes and alters free

They loved their land with everlasting love

Their one regret, that they could not give more, do more.

Christ – like, they carried the cross for Irelands sake

Their Calvary they climbed. They staggered, bled.

The Dublin streets took on a ruddier red.

Liberty’s sun rose over Hill of Howth.

Our great Gaels with their hearts’ blood paid the price.

And Ireland was re-born through sacrifice.

 

Michael Mullin

The Bard of Foremass