On Reading Of Racism In Ireland

I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their colour or their race.

As the Land of saints and scholars Ireland was known Worldwide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.

Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.

I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.

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poem by Francis Duggan
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Stop at home. Arm for Ireland. Fight for Ireland and no other land.

quote by James Larkin
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The Ballad of Brother Walfrid

My name is Andrew Kerins,
born and bred in Ballymote
I left my home at an early age
and traveled to Scotland in a trawler boat
Would I ever again see Ireland,
as the famine had stolen her strength
Would Scotland welcome the Diaspora,
of Irish men & women

My calling of becoming a Marist Priest
led me to the Glasgow parish of St.Mary's
Where the immigrant Irish, poor and starved,
made home in the east end of the city
My heart cried out when I saw theses lost souls,
living in poverty and in squalor
As Protestant Scotland would not accept,
their accent, dress or culture.

I prayed day and night to Our Lord,
for the welfare of St.Patrick's flock,

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poem by Daniel McDonagh
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If Ireland is to become a new Ireland she must first become European.

quote by James Joyce
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The Irish are a fair people - they never speak well of one another.

classic quote by Samuel Johnson
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Celtic Spring

Gotta spread the news in the regions again
Im gonna sing my blues in the regions again
Gonna blow my fuse cause I wanna cut loose
In the regions again
Wanna dance by you by the light of the moon
I wanna see you there on a bright afternoon
I wanna sing my song, wont you play me the tune
In the regions again
In the celtic spring
In the celtic spring
Wont you come and go
Wanna go to the regions again
Wanna go to the regions again
I gotta go to the regions again
In the celtic spring
In the celtic spring
Wont you come and go
Gotta spread the news in the regions again
Im gonna sing my blues in the regions again
I wanna blow my fuse cause I wanna cut loose

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song performed by Van Morrison
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My point is there's a hidden Scotland in anyone who speaks the Northern Ireland speech. It's a terrific complicating factor, not just in Northern Ireland, but Ireland generally.

quote by Seamus Heaney
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One Irish Rover

Tell me the story now
Now that its over
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Tell me you wiser now
Tell me you older
Wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
Bridge:
I can tell by the light in your eye
That youre so far away
Like a ship out on the sea
Without a sail, youve gone astray
Tell me the facts real straight
Dont make me over
Make it come out alright
And wrap it in glory
For one irish rover
For one irish rover
One irish rover

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song performed by Van Morrison
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Irish Americans are no more Irish than Black Americans are Africans.

quote by Bob Geldof
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O'Hanlon's Gold

O' Hanlon is the name,
And smuggling was the game.
A little highway robbery,
To balance society's snobbery.
A highway man named edmond,
A twinkling eyed rough diamond,
Relieved the rich of excess
To help the poor to success,
With raising up their families,
To adulthood, not graveside trees.
The famine they survived it,
By sticking as a unit.
Some called them 'fightin' Irish',
With shillelagh, pipes and feistiness.
The Claddagh handshake signifies,
Their friendship, love; it verifies
That battles were fought yesterday,
O' Hanlon's name on lips today,
Does typify the Irish love,
And loyalty, travelling hand in glove,

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poem by Rosi Caswell
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Ireland.

Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880.

Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland,
Charmer of the sun and sea,
Bright beguiler of old anguish,
How could Famine frown on thee?

As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward,
Turns him from his northward flow,
And our wintry western headlands
Send thee summer from their snow,

Thus the main and cordial current
Of our love sets over sea, --
Tender, comely, valiant Ireland,
Songful, soulful, sorrowful Ireland, --
Streaming warm to comfort thee.

poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Man in Green

Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,

You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.

I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,

I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.

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poem by Daniel McDonagh
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On The 09 All Ireland Football Final

For the Cork Gaelic Footballers another humbling defeat
By their neighbours Kerry in Croke Park once more they've been beat
In Gaelic Football in Ireland Kerry to the fore
With 36 All Ireland titles and their fans hoping for more.

My mum was from Kerry that I cannot deny
But why it aches me when Cork lose a big game I do wonder why?
Though long absent from Ireland a sense of parochialism I do retain
Some-things from our past always with us do remain.

But Kerry fans with their 09 All Ireland victory need not get carried away
As their hurlers are quite poor though that does seem a sad thing for to have to say
Like Kilkenny Ireland's premier hurling County Kerry G A A rankings low
The lowest even in Munster as all G A A fans do know.

For the Liam Mcarthy Cup Kerry Hurlers never allowed for to play
For that not deemed to be good enough by the administrators of the G A A
Like the Kilkenny Footballers Kerry Hurlers amongst the lowly rate
Though their many Football victories their fans have to celebrate.

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poem by Francis Duggan
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Acrostic To Allan

Cool-weather Bird of Paradise, spread your
Orange wings of Kilkenny's Celtic dawn over my
Pallid fields of scorched flesh and charred bones.
Phoenix rising to your lips, I am
Eire's promise of the Emerald Eye
Resurrected from the fires of Christian wars.

Al, Christ of Ireland and Dragon of the Stone,
Never turn your back on the Little People.
Green clover bends in the shadow of your steps while
Eagles pluck St. Patrick's bones and
Leprechauns dance rings around your copper-penny hair.

poem by Ezekiel Krahlin
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My Irish Granny

A Tribute To My Irish Granny

By Marie Hurst on 17 June 2011

land of my grt grt grt grandmother beckon to me

Lure me home over the Irish sea

There with eyes of pure emerald green

My granny once walked, my Irish queen

Mary I never knew you, I wish I had

You died long before for that am sad

All I know is you where my granny

my Irish queen.

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poem by Marie Causey
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Land Grievances

Get in line. Young Maori. Get in line.

Death Death March legally signed
before young Maori intensely pined.
Killed was ancient ancestral spirit
cleaving Celtic Isle mist lost lands.
Butchered guttered tie affixed lost
birthright mystic Celtic legendary lands.
Blood washed uprooted cast out are clans
purged from beloved Celtic ancestral lands.
Umbilical cord was cut brutally severed
with stealing steal tongue beastly fire.

For more sheep landlord pasture profit
Scottish smashed in are cottages homes.
Flocks free bleating beasts tended roam
rule ruined outcast vacated ghost villages.
Starvation claims sickening women children
destitute dying in London’s stinking slums.
Scottish men die dye red ranging regiments

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Certainly my only interest is not in Celtic music.

quote by Nobuo Uematsu
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God Be With You

The truth will ever hide
Even though I tried
They tried to take my pride
But they only took my father from me
They only took my father
Even though I cried
Even though I tried again
God be with you ireland
God be with you ireland
Sometimes I was afraid
Even though I prayed
Ive lost my religion now
You took that too somehow
Blood upon thy hands
Blood upon thy hands again
(I have served my time)
God be with you ireland
(suffered for my crime)
God be with you ireland
(I have served my time)

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song performed by Cranberries
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A Team Brother Walfrid Called Celtic

In the Archdiocese of Glasgow
In the city’s east end,
Brother Walfrid sat with his assistant Brother Dorotheus,

The vision they shared
Was that the poor must be fed
As the dinner tables lay empty for the Irish.

Brother Walfrid had a dream
That wore Ireland’s emerald green
And would be saviours to the minority Catholics,

The Irish stood at Parkhead
And the football was played
By a team, that Brother Walfrid called Celtic.

poem by Daniel McDonagh
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Being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.

classic quote by William Butler Yeats
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