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DRUMBOE MARTYRS
By MICHAEL McGINLEY
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1
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'Twas the feast of St. Patrick
By the dawn of the day;
The hills of Tirconaill
Stood sombre and grey;
When the first light of morning
Illumined the sky,
Four brave Irish soldiers
Were led forth to die. |
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2
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Three left their loved homes
In Kerry's green vales,
And one came from Derry
To fight for the Gaels.
But instead of true friends,
They met traitors and foe,
And uncoffined were laid
In the woods of Drumboe. |
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3
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Four Republican soldiers
Were dragged from their cells
Where for months they had suffered
Wild torments like hell's.
No mercy they asked
From their pitiless foe,
And no mercy was shown
By the thugs at Drumboe. |
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4
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The church bells rang out
In the clear morning air
To summon the faithful
To penance and prayer,
When a crash from the woodlands
Struck terror and woe
'Twas the death-knell of Daly,
Shot dead at Drumboe. |
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5
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Let Tirconaill ne'er boast
Of her honour and fame;
All the waters of Finn
Could not wash out her shame;
But while the Finn and the Swilly
Continue to flow,
That stain will remain on
The woods of Drumboe. |
IRELAND REMEMBERS THEM.
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