I came across this stunning and poignant poem from Paul Colvin on Sunday so I thought I’d share.
Brits and The Gaels.
While they sent our men to India
To fight for the British cause
They sent in thugs to burn our crofts
Without mercy, thought or pause
They killed our women, children
Or traded them for sheep
And if you didn’t like the deal
They burned you in your sleep.
We were taken out at gunpoint
And shipped from our native shores
They allowed us no belongings
Except the clothes we wore
We knew we had done nothing wrong
Yet the New World was our fate
But the one inherent problem here
Was the evil British State.
Enslaved upon their filthy ships
With meagre rations fed
Thousands never saw new land
We died at sea instead
Thrown overboard with little prayer
Our faith was held so dear
But the Christian heathen captain
Fuelled only misery and fear.
We sailed the seas we did not know
We were from the land
Working fingers to the bone
With great callouses on hands
We fended only for ourselves
As we’d always done before
But now we’re strewn worldwide,
Proud Gaels on every shore.
15th December 2019
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