No More She Roars, But Her People Do, In Pain
Monument to leaders of the Land League in the late 19th century erected by townspeople during Celtic tiger era, before its collapse handed our land and homes to another foreign power.
No more she roars, the Tigeress of the Celts,
Who brave took on the Capitalists jungle there and won,
We thought ourselves warriors on the worlds stage
Each man a Financial Setanta, the battle won.
The battle was far from won, the tide it turned,
The warrior wins who can survive that fray,
Ours did not, now sulks, and licks its wounds
Whimpering its alive to fight another day.
Another foreign power rapes our land,
As monuments we build to honour those before
Who fought, our land and homes to free,
So our children know not colonialism any more.
But us, we fools!!! We gambled what they too us gave,
On the Roulette wheel everything we had, willfully tossed…
Wilful waste leads to woeful want, its true whats said…
Woe to the conquored, us who the gamble lost!