Written after the “Right to Work” march on June 1, 2010
We marched there, chanting slogans
Past the gates of Trinity
On College Green in Dublin
A few hundred odd, and me
A poet from down the country
Who had much of the worlds wrongs to say
And chanting slogans and marching
To the GPO made our way.
I rememeber once in a book
A picture I had seen
Of Unionists from Dublin town
Who at this spot had been
With Union Jacks froudly waving
At some demonstration or other
Where rich man and poor man
Under the Flag was brother.
How much has changed in those years
From which all our kind has came
Its all different – utterly
And yet is much the same.
The poverty is less now
But the poverty of the soul
Is abundant among the poor
And it consumes them whole.
And yet, for flag of empire or republic
They trust the state to the rich man
Who reap its harvest for their own
As it has been since time began.
We are the fools the working class
Who vote them in allowing them to
Give all our assets to the rich
And their mistakes then we rue.
Why cant we march with our own
Each man loyal to his own flag
Under the banner of the working class
Until of this we brag
It is pointless marching
Though to march does little harm
For thie rich man for the poor always has a fist
To crush them at the end of his arm.