Today I look and think it hard
To write of their deaths, and I a bard!
Two crosses black upon a yard
Where the 1916 rebel leaders died.
One, a totally innocent man
Brother of he who the rebellion began
Who did not - and they knew it - plot or plan
Sentenced was to death when tried.
I looked at the gate where
By ambulance, James Connolly was brought there
To be shot... sitting in a chair
How Erin heartbroken, for her sons she sighed...
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