The economy in Ireland has been rampaging ahead for the last 15 years. Barring an international, political or natural catastrophe, things can only get better for the Irish.
quote by Eddie Murphy
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Give Ireland Back To The Irish
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian you are tremendous
And nobody knows like me
But really what are you doin
In the land across the sea
Tell me how would you like it
If on your way to work
You were stopped by irish soliders
Would you lie down do nothing
Would you give in, or go berserk
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Great britian and all the people
Say that all people must be free
Meanwhile back in ireland
Theres a man who looks like me
And he dreams of God and country
And hes feeling really bad
And hes sitting in a prison
Should he lie down do nothing
Should give in or go mad
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
Give ireland back to the irish
Dont make them have to take it away
Give ireland back to the irish
Make ireland irish today
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ireland Shall Rebel
WHILE tyrants rule the land,
Beneath the Irish skies;
While e’er the iron hand
Upon our people lies;
While sons are driven forth
In other lands to dwell,
Still in the South and North
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
While fanlike from below,
And pale against the skies,
That light of shame—the glow
Of burning homes—shall rise;
While hot indignant tears
From Irish hearts shall swell:—
Be it a thousand years,
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
Until the tyrant’s rod
Shall broken be in twain,
And on the dear old sod
Blest freedom treads again;
Or till our masters learn
To rule our country well,
The fires of hate shall burn!—
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
poem by Henry Lawson
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On Irish Politics And Politicians
Politics in the Republic of Ireland with any joy I can't recall
Nepotism rife in the ranks of the three major parties Labour, Fine Gael and Fianna Fail
Jobs for their kin and their mates only Irish Politicians in their ways so small
In Politics since my time in Ireland suppose things would not have changed much at all
I was never a member of any Irish Political Party to me they seemed a very flawed lot
The way they conducted their business I certainly haven't forgot
Any one party not cleaner than the other honest politicians anywhere hard to be found
I recall amongst Irish Politicians that nepotism did abound
They grew old and retired on their big pensions they took care of themselves and their own
Honesty and fairness with them not a high priority the most of them for such not known
When they spoke of doing good for the Country they did not mean what they did say
They only helped their families, friends and relations respect to them I could not pay
There were a few honourable Irish Politicians just a few that I can recall
But honesty does not survive well amongst Politicians they are a flawed lot overall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Reading Of Racism In Ireland
I always feel disappointed when of racism I read
And when I read of it in Ireland I feel very sad indeed
For racism in society should never have a place
And people should never be judged on their colour or their race.
As the Land of saints and scholars Ireland was known Worldwide
And the Irish people suffered and their rights to them denied
But the Irish in their sense of fair play could take a certain pride
And for their human rights and liberty the sons of Ireland died.
Poor migrants from Romania their possessions weigh light
To live and work in Ireland do they not have the right?
They may come un-invited but their numbers only small
And the Irish too are migrants as history will recall.
I read it's the Irish media that fans racism's flame
If this be so of their bad work they must feel a great shame
They cannot say in years to come the fault was never ours
When they first used the noxious spray that poisoned all the flowers.
I am an Irish migrant far from my native shore
And others treat me with respect than that one could not ask for more
A fair go for all people and for everyone fair play
Those words from centuries ago are relevant today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Irish Guards
1918
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so young at our trade,
For we had the honour at Fontenoy
Of meeting the Guards' Brigade.
'Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare,
And Lee that led us then,
And after a hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Old Days! The wild geese are flighting,
Head to fhe sform as they faced if before !
For where there are Irish there's bound to be fighting,
And when there's no fighting, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
The fashion's all for khaki now,
But once through France we went
Full-dressed in scarlet Army cloth,
The English-left at Ghent.
They're fighting on our side to-day
But, before they changed their clothes,
The half of Europe knew our fame,
As all of Ireland knows!
Old Days! The wild geese are flying,
Head to the sform as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's memory undying,
And when we forget, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
From Barry Wood to Gouzeaucourt,
From Boyne to Pilkem Ridge,
The ancient days come back no more
Than water under the bridge.
But the bridge it stands and the water runs
As red as yesterday,
And the Irish move to the sound of the guns
Like salmon to the sea.
Old Days! The wild geese are ranging,
Head to fhe storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish their hearts are unchanging,
And when they are changed, it is Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
We're not so old in the Army List,
But we're not so new in the ring,
For we carried our packs with Marshal Saxe
When Louis was our King.
But Douglas Haig's our Marshal now
And we're King George's men,
And after one hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again!
Ah, France! And did we stand by you,
When life was made splendid with gifts and rewards?
Ah, France! And will we deny you
In the hour of your agony, Mother of Swords?
Old Days! The wild geese are flighing,
Head to the storm as they faced it before!
For where there are Irish there's loving and fighting
And when we stop either, it's Ireland no more!
Ireland no more!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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When the Irish Flag Went By
’Twas Eight-Hour Day, and proudly
Old Labour led the way;
The drums were bearing loudly,
The crowded streets were gay;
But something touched my heart like pain,
I could not check the sigh
That rose within my bosom when
The Irish Flag went by.
Bright flags were raised about it
And one of them my own:
And patriots trod beneath it—
But it seemed all alone.
I thought of ruined Ireland
While crystals from the sky
Fell soft like tears by angels shed,
As the Irish Flag went by.
I love the dark green standard
As Irish patriots do;
It waves above the rebels,
And I’m a rebel too,
I thought of Ireland’s darkest years,
Her griefs that follow fast;
For drooping as ’twere drenched with tears
The Irish Flag went past.
And though ’twas not in Erin
That my forefathers trod;
And though my wandering footsteps
Ne’er pressed the “dear old sod”,
I felt the wrongs the Irish feel
Beneath the northern sky.
And felt the rebel in my heart
When the Irish Flag went by.
I tell you, men of England,
Who rule the land by might;
I tell you, Irish traitors
Who sell the sons of light,
The tyranny shall fail at last,
That changeful days are nigh;
And you shall dip your red flag yet,
When the Irish Flag goes by.
poem by Henry Lawson
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If You're Lucky Enough To Be Irish
If you're lucky enough to be Irish
Then you're lucky enough they say.
I count my Irish blessings,
As I breathe the air each day.
When I'm somewhere o'er the water
Not walking Erin's shore,
I know my resting place will be
In Ireland for evermore.
I have Irish songs on my lips,
And Irish blood in my veins,
So I tell you I'm lucky to be Irish,
And I'll keep telling you over again.
I'm lucky enough to be Irish.
My children who walk by my side,
Will I hope, too feel the calling,
And someday walk Erin's fields wide.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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On the Northern Ireland question, for instance, the British and Irish governments prohibit media contact with members of the IRA, but we have always gone ahead, believing in the right to information.
Perhaps catastrophe is the natural human environment, and even though we spend a good deal of energy trying to get away from it, we are programmed for survival amid catastrophe.
quote by Germaine Greer
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Ireland.
Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880.
Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland,
Charmer of the sun and sea,
Bright beguiler of old anguish,
How could Famine frown on thee?
As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward,
Turns him from his northward flow,
And our wintry western headlands
Send thee summer from their snow,
Thus the main and cordial current
Of our love sets over sea, --
Tender, comely, valiant Ireland,
Songful, soulful, sorrowful Ireland, --
Streaming warm to comfort thee.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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I mean I grew up in Ireland, so one would have to be consciously blinkered not to have reflected on the issue of political violence because that was the story since I was 19 years old or 20.
quote by Neil Jordan
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It's called political economy because it is has nothing to do with either politics or economy.
quote by Stephen Leacock
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That feeds anger, and I mean when we went and at last thank heavens got towards peace in Northern Ireland we went for justice within Northern Ireland as well as using security well, as well as a political settlement, but surely that is the lesson.
quote by Clare Short
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Obviously one of the things that poets from Northern Ireland and beyond - had to try to make sense of was what was happening on a day-to-day political level.
quote by Paul Muldoon
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From my earliest acquaintance with the science of political economy, it has been evident to my mind that capital was the product of labor, and that therefore, in its best analysis there could be no natural conflict between capital and labor.
quote by Leland Stanford
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How She Went To Ireland
Dora’s gone to Ireland
Through the sleet and snow;
Promptly she has gone there
In a ship, although
Why she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
That was where, yea, Ireland,
Dora wished to be:
When she felt, in lone times,
Shoots of misery,
Often there, in Ireland,
Dora wished to be.
Hence she’s gone to Ireland,
Since she meant to go,
Through the drift and darkness
Onward labouring, though
That she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Every Living Thing Barring Mother Nature
They may be very famous people and leave their footprints in the sands of time
And their legends may live on for centuries and even outlive the poet's rhyme
But their fame won't live on forever though them the masses celebrate
For every living thing barring Mother Nature has on it set a time date.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature will eventually go into decay
And even from history's pages be lost and forgotten one day
Suppose that's what makes all things equal and whether we are buried or burn
Mother Nature is there to receive us and to her bosom we'll return.
All of my best years behind me and I've lived most of my time span
Less than two years short of sixty soon I will be an old man
Every day nearer the last day that is the end for us all
To us then it will not matter if the living our names won't recall.
Every living thing barring Mother Nature must bow to old father time
And though the achievements of some great people may outlive the great poet's rhyme
Their fame has on it a time date it has often been said before
That only herself Mother Nature will live on forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Irish-English
Having stolen all the goods and gone,
The English are back in Ireland
Seeking the good of man
In folksong of the past.
Irish in acadamia
Have left the country behind
Preferring to live where the air comes in,
Leave the stench to the English mind.
It's neither one thing nor another
But a blend that works the best.
But when it comes to English-Irish
The latter think the opposite's blessed.
Living by the nostrils the Irish whiff the past,
'The English they can have it. By the future we are cast.'
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Ireland
O WE have loved you through cold and rain
And pitiless frost,
Consuming our offering of blood and brain
Gladly again and again and again,
Though it all seemed lost,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will fight, fight on for you till
Your anguish is past,
The wronged ones righted, the tyrants still. —
Though God has not saved you, yet we will,
At the last, at the last,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will love you in warmth and light
And the happy day,
When you have forgotten the terrible night,
Standing proud and beautiful bright
For ever and aye,
Ireland, Ireland!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Written In February 2000
You told me of the peace in Northern Ireland
And for lasting peace in Ireland you did pray
But now I hear that the hard won peace is endangered
Since the terrorists won't give their bombs and guns away.
The Ulster paramilitaries have failed to disarm
So I heard in the news the other day
They want to destabilize the peace agreement
The Loyalist terrorists and the I R A.
The large majority want peace in Northern Ireland
And to the cause of fair play remain true
But to wreck the goodwill brought on by power sharing
It will only take the bad destructive few.
I've heard about the fight for Irish freedom
And the stories of famous battles I recall
But is any Country worth killing or dying for?
There's more to freedom than that after all.
And the people of Ireland by goodwill will be united
For human love will always conquer hate
And there still is hope for lasting peace in Ireland
Since the terrorists there are seen as out of date.
poem by Francis Duggan
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