To Hell or Connacht
Once upon a time
in a nasty little war
Cromwell came to Ireland
like a blight upon our shore.
He waged war upon my people
in a genocidal style
but some revisionists might argue
he was merciful and mild.
At Drogheda he killed thousands,
what a slaughter that place saw,
at the hands of 'Christian' soldiers-
surely righteous was their cause.
Then, when the war was over
and all our blood was spent
the Gaels, who used to own the land,
all wound up paying rent
' To Hell or Connacht' is a phrase
sound biters did invent
I don't know if he uttered it
but its surely what he meant!
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Related quotes
To Hell Or To Connacht
To Hell or to Connacht was Cromwells's war cry
To poor Irish tenant farmers his cruel words did apply
Cromwell was a war criminal the facts never lie
To Hell or to Connacht were his words or die.
When Cromwell handed over the command of the Royalist Troops to Henry Ireton the results were the same
In human history their treatment of poor Irish people is a human shame
In their conquests of Ireland thousands of people died
Any form of human rights of them was denied.
Poor Irish tenant farmers were put on the road
To Connacht or to die of no fixed abode
Oliver Cromwell and Henry Ireton were far worse than cruel
They were despotic leaders who abused their rule.
Anyone who knows of history surely do know
Of the atrocities of the Crown forces in Ireland three and a half centuries ago
Cromwell and Ireton were horrible men
They must have been born in the Devil's den.
Some look on past history as over and gone
But in Ireland to Hell or to Connacht those words do live on
And thousands on walking to Connacht died of hunger and cold
The poor and forgotten their life stories untold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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El Condor Pasa
I'd rather be a sparrow than a snail
Yes I would, if I could, I surely would
I'd rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes I would, if I only could, I surely would
Away, I'd rather sail away
Like a swan that's here and gone
A man gets tired out to the ground
He gives the world
Its saddest sound
Its saddest sound
I'd rather be a forest than a street
Yes I would, if I could, I surely would
I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet
Yes I would, if I only could, I surely would
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Be With You
The truth will ever hide
Even though I tried
They tried to take my pride
But they only took my father from me
They only took my father
Even though I cried
Even though I tried again
God be with you ireland
God be with you ireland
Sometimes I was afraid
Even though I prayed
Ive lost my religion now
You took that too somehow
Blood upon thy hands
Blood upon thy hands again
(I have served my time)
God be with you ireland
(suffered for my crime)
God be with you ireland
(I have served my time)
God be with you ireland
(suffered for my crime)
God be with you ireland
God be with you now
God be with you now
God be with you now
God be with you now
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Reach The Place Im Goin
When I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
And I will turn and look inside me
And bid farewell to one more day
Every light begins with darkness
Every flower is once a seed
And with the sun and wind to test us
We are bound to be released
I will fly beyond this valley
I will open up the gate
And when I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
We have hands to hold our sorrow
We have tears to heal the pain
And though your eyes ask many questions
On your lips I hear my name
I was born without a whisper
I was born beneath the rain
But when I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
I will surely know my way
song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Reach The Place Im Goin
When I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
And I will turn and look inside me
And bid farewell to one more day
Every light begins with darkness
Every flower is once a seed
And with the sun and wind to test us
We are bound to be released
I will fly beyond this valley
I will open up the gate
And when I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
We have hands to hold our sorrow
We have tears to heal the pain
And though your eyes ask many questions
On your lips I hear my name
I was born without a whisper
I was born beneath the rain
But when I reach the place Im goin? br> I will surely know my way
I will surely know my way
song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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El Condor Pasa
Id rather be a sparrow than a snail.
Yes I would.
If I could,
I surely would.
Id rather be a hammer than a nail.
Yes I would.
If I could,
I surely would.
Chorus
Away, Id rather sail away
Like a swan thats here and gone
A man grows older every day
It gives the world
Its saddest sound,
Its saddest sound.
Id rather be a forest than a street.
Yes I would.
If I could,
I surely would.
Id rather feel the earth beneath my feet,
Yes I would.
If I could,
I surely would.
Chorus
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bee (Chapter 16, Verses 66-67, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
And surely there is a lesson for you in the cattle
We give you pure milk
Which is produced in their bellies
And delivered through blood vessel.
As for the drinkers, it's easy and agreeable.
And from the fruits of the palm and the grapes
You obtain intoxication
As well as goodly provision
Surely there is a sign in it
For the people with vision.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Daddy Still Runs Your Show
Daddy surely did love you
In his own fashion that is
And surely he told you sometime?
Though in a manner quite strictly his
Daddy demanded perfection
And all that such entailed
And surely he meted out correction
With rectifications clearly detailed
Daddy was very successful
A man standing above other men
And surely his life was quite stressful
As he reminded you time and again
Daddy was hard to please
And why should you have found him other?
And surely you understood
Observing the secreted tears of your mother
Daddy set high the standard
And outlined the goals for your measure
And surely that inspired your need
To place accomplishment ahead of pleasure
Daddy still runs your show
Though he lives now but in your head
And surely your present behavior reflects
The cold way he toodled you off to your bed
poem by Mary Havran
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The Blood of Thousands
Thousands upon thousands are slain
Each year, are killed in cruel, cold blood.
Thousands cry out, but to no avail—
They are attacked with cruelest hate.
They scream and shout!
But do we care? No! and we never will!
Let’s murder some more! Kill more from inside!
It doesn’t hurt us in the least!
They’re as dead as dead can ever get—
They’ll not trouble us again.
They are gone and now you can rejoice!
Take pride in your murder of innocent blood!
Who are these thousands killed every year?
The infants in your womb!
Murderess! ! Fiend! Heartless animal!
You don’t deserve motherhood!
Abort them. Go ahead. At least they’re in a better place,
A place you’ll never go! At least it’s over, and they
Didn’t have to deal with you, selfish pig!
I hope that guilt tears you apart the way you did to them!
This is abortion.
This is evil.
This is.....
Murder!
poem by Paige Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Winners Write The History
That the winners write the war histories should not be the case
For war is a tragedy a human disgrace
And the losers in war see their Country destoyed
And the war history never written by the losing side.
Look at Oliver Cromwell victorious in war
The deeds of his glory from England known far
But those who write on Cromwell they never do tell
Of one who for poor people made life Earthly hell.
To the Catholics of Ireland Cromwell was a brute
The poor rural peasants he did persecute
Yet streets in his honour distant from England today
The winners only write the history so true what they say.
Efrain Rios Montt became President of Guatemala even though he
Was guilty of serious crimes against humanity
An old man now but for his crimes yet to pay
The winners write the history it's always been that way.
Augusto Pinochet in Chile has blood on his hands
And that he may die a free man seems hard to understand
And though loathed by many in Chile for his crimes of shame
The winners write the history and their's is the fame.
I've just mentioned a few for there are many more
Who have committed crimes against humanity but like it has been said before
that the winners write the history and that's how 'twill remain
And the mistakes of the past are repeated again.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Descent
The story read for you today,
you questioned what it meant.
I searched the symbols it conveyed
and found the meanings rent.
The truth profound but not around,
and you, your focus spent;
on surface flotsam, tragic clowns,
and show a locus of decent.
If youth be spent in tenements
and hungry hunter's spoor
what need for guiding confidence
upon the distant shore.
To argue with a spirit bold
This out of body experience
making one feel really old
while the listeners experiment.
The father's, father mimed the world
the father's, father spoke the word.
The father's son becomes the story
Seeking fame, the fortune and the glory.
Then come father, come to be son,
the lessons learned become undone.
The future son hones his decent
while slowly saving for the rent.
Young Ned Of The Hill
Have you ever walked the lonesome hills
And heard the curlews cry
Or seen the raven black as night
Upon a windswept sky
To walk the purple heather
And hear the westwind cry
To know that's where the rapparee must die
Since cromwell pushed us westward
To live our lowly lives
There's some of us have deemed to fight
From tipperary mountains high
Noble men with wills of iron
Who are not afraid to die
Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high
A curse upon you oliver cromwell
You who raped our motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"to hell or connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
Of one such man i'd like to speak
A rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered
They put a price upon his head
His name is known in song and story
His deeds are legends still
And murdered for blood money
Was young ned of the hill
A curse upon you oliver cromwell
You who raped our motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"to hell or connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
You have robbed our homes and fortunes
Even drove us from our land
You tried to break our spirit
But you'll never understand
The love of dear old ireland
That will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men
Like young ned of the hill
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want to be a Soldier
I will be a soldier
Only when soldiers realize
They are not animals or
cattles
Only if soldiers can ask
'Why should I shoot that
innocent man? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers can ask the
commander
'Why should we shoot at
the children? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers know that
The red blood that runs
through their veins
Runs in the rest peopl's too.
I would be a soldier if
Soldiers know they aren't
what they ask them to be
When they know that
The Emperor will never ask
them to kill his children
I would be a soldier
When soldiers realize war
is inhuman
When soldiers know war
always starts war
When they know that
World peace can not be
reached through war
When United Nations can
ask themselves
Is war the only way to end
corruption in the globe?
When soldiers know the
distance between peace and
war.
When soldiers realize how
intoxicative the gun is.
When soldiers realize
that gun does not control
them, but they control it.
I would be a soldier only if
soldiers know
why Martin Luther King jnr.
was killed.
If they know Adolf Hitler
also tried to make peace
through war.
I would be a soldier
If they can tell me why they
are only trained to kill.
I would be a soldier if
soldier can say
NO TO BRUTE LEADERS.
I would be a soldier if
soldiers know
the difference between
death and birth.
I would be a soldier if they
can tell
Why they are weapons of
destruction?
If they can explain why they
killed at Vietnam?
Why they killed at Somalia?
Why Ghadafi was killed
without trial?
Why Abraham Lincoln was
shot
Why Ghandi was killed,
Why they dont care if they
die in war in the name of
peace.
I would be a soldier If soldiers know they have rights If soldiers know they need Freedom. I would be a soldier If the goverments around the world realize How wonderful the world would be If the money invests in atomic weapons can be spent To feed billions of children on the streets of India, Nigeria, Brazil, South Africa The United States and all the streets of the World. I would be a soldier when soldiers can fight for liberty And not for slavery When soldiers know that nobody should think for them When soldiers know they are humans not cattles, When they realize that nobody should tell them what to think and what to feel. If soldiers can be humans, I would be a soldier.
poem by Idris Adesina
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Of Ireland
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.'
One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,' he said,
'And the night grows rough.'
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
'The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,' cried he,
'The trumpet and trombone,'
And cocked a malicious eye,
'But time runs on, runs on.'
I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Psalm 55
O if I had wings like a dove
I would surely fly away
If I could feel the rain from above
I would live another day
Yet I wander in this rainless place
And death is never far away
If I could only see His face
I would surely live another day
The wind and the storms are all around
And I cry out to God and pray
If I could break free and was not bound
I would surely live another day
I will cast my burden on the Lord
And He shall sustain me
I will lay down and rest in His word
And in His presence I surely shall be
poem by Frank McEleny
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Australian Federation
FROM all division let our land be free,
For God has made her one: complete she lies
Within the unbroken circle of the skies,
And round her indivisible the sea
Breaks on her single shore; while only we,
Her foster children, bound with sacred ties
Of one dear blood, one storied enterprise,
Are negligent of her integrity.—
Her seamless garment, at great Mammon’s nod,
With hands unfilial we have basely rent,
With petty variance our souls are spent,
And ancient kinship underfoot is trod:
O let us rise, united, penitent,
And be one people,—mighty, serving God!
poem by William Gay
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Rent
(again... again... again... ooooh
(again... again... again... again... ...)
You dress me up, Im your puppet
You buy me things, I love it
You bring me food, I need it
You give me love, I feed it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
With everything we see
I never want anything, its easy
You buy whatever I need
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
You phone me in the evening on hearsay
And bought me caviar
You took me to a restaurant off broadway
To tell me who you are
We never-ever argue, we never calculate
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
Im your puppet
I love it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
And sometimes ecstasy
Words mean so little, and money less
When youre lying next to me
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) ooh, I love you, you pay my rent
Look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
Look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) I love you (its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Will Be Moved
Performed by mavis staples
Composed by prince
U will be moved when the baby lets out his very first cry
U will be moved when u think of how hard hell have 2 try
Hell grow up on an empty stomach, but hell try his best 2 listen
2 the teacher readin from a schoolbook with half the pages missin
Chorus:
Surely when the rain comes, u will be moved
La da da da da
See the video
U will be moved, and u will be when the baby makes all the grades
U will be moved, and u will be when they still dont hire him anyway
Moved by a system without one single guarantee
That an education is the answer and love will set us free
Chorus
Oh, u will be moved when the rain comes, oh yes, u will be moved
When the streets overflow with angry souls, thats when u see the truth
When the pain that uve inflicted comes back on your door 2 roost (back on your door 2 roost)
Thats when ull see the future (future), but u wont see u
Chorus
U will be moved when the whip comes down on the back of one of your own
U will be moved when u look 4 compassion but u find ure all alone
Moved, and u will be when u are, thats when ull know
That the bread u share is better than the blood that your deeds have caused 2 flow
(that the bread is better than the blood)
Chorus
Hey, u will be moved when the rain comes, oh yes, u will be moved
When the streets all flow with angry souls, thats when ull see the truth
When the pain that uve inflicted comes back on your door 2 roost (back on your door 2 roost)
Thats when ull see the future (future), but u wont see u
I said surely when the rain comes, u will be moved
La da da da da (la da da da da)
See the video
Hey, surely, surely, surely (when the rain comes)
Surely yall
Ow, la da da da da
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spider (Chapter 29, Verses 41-43, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
The people who take guardians besides Allah
Is like spider that makes for itself a house
And surely spider's web is the weakest house
If they understood it somehow!
Surely Allah knows whatever thing
They call upon besides Him
And He is the Mighty and Wise Being.
And these examples are set forth for all
And none understands it but the wise people.
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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