For Barry’s soul we prayed in hell,
Pathetic creatures adorned in pain,
And we never heard his requiem bell,
But our own — in torture’s livid strain.

In the southern realms of Munster world,
The humble whin bush sway,
Shedding yellow tears like child
For a legend passed away.

And they blow down lanes of time gone by,
O’er Crossbarry and Kilmicheal grave,
And resurrect a battle cry,
‘With Barry, boys be brave! ’

In dusky light, by mist, o’er hills they tread,
A column on the run,
The ghosts of fighters long since dead,
Yet n’er at rest, their guns still slung.

Now Barry leads them in the night,
Hardy souls of Cork Brigade,
To tramp the glens to morning light,
When their ghostly forms shall fade.

And we prayed tonight for Barry’s rest,
Would Barry e’er be free,
As he tramps across old Munster’s breast,
To blind eternity.

And in darkened shadows, ‘neath prison bars,
The hags of torture wave,
But we hear a voice that is of ours,
‘With Barry, boys be brave! ’


By Bobby Sands MP Irish poet and revolutionary 1954 -1981

I loved that. It was very good.

Nice one Susan, bless the two of them..