Drumshambo: July 12th

The dead from the Great Hunger, with no names, lie and are remembered. The Orangemen, for all their pomp, their names are largely forgotten.

I walk where Orangemen don’t do now

Who walked this day so long ago

When our folk stayed off of the road

As they passed, banners on show

To fife and drum, their sashes blew

As they still do up north today

But I walk here now, passing their church

In Drumshambo, on Orange Day.

I walked past the famine graveyard

I stopped to say a prayer

And wrote that once a poet passed

And stopped by their graves there

Who have no names, but lie beside the Piper

As verse I write in Italic font

As I left, I blessed by self

From the rain filled holy water font.

All are dead now, the famine dead and the Orangemen

Who walked there those times now past

Tyranny and pride will have its day

But it’s day will never last.

I walk beside Lough Allen

Returning into town,

I resolve to write of the Famine dead

To curse the Orangemen and the Crown.

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