Remember them and don’t forget,
Who in Ninety Eight there died,
Murdered by troops of the British Crown,
On orders, for which they were never tried.
Oh no, but them troops they well were paid
By the standards at the time,
When the law was of might is right
Murder was duty, not a crime.
They dont tell you all in the history books,
Of who the Crown killed in 98
They want to appease the British, forget the wronged, the dead,
They claim it is to suppress hate.
It was not just rebels fleeing they killed,
The victims words echo: the proof
Peter Fitzpatrick of Coshill, his wife Margaret murdered too
By the one bullet under their own roof
In embrace to protect each other in an act of love
As each partner to protect each other should
Their child to the neighbours ran crying:
Parents dead, pigs from the floor drinking their blood.
For such deeds here and far under Crowns command,
The British Empire was built
Their wealth with the blood of their victims flowed
Like the faux tears of colonial guilt.