What heart breaking treason against Ireland Aided and abetted by her own sons and daughters. The rape of our nation; the ransom of our waters. And for what? To bail out gamblers unwilling to repay their debts. Who having lost retrieve their bets. Clutching a crippled currency and at a fever pitch Shouted ‘capitalism for the poor; socialism for the rich. And Anglo bankers with numbers they picked out of their arses Gaily playing that most elaborate of farces An economic party game of musical chairs. Ireland left standing without theirs. Unceremoniously unseated. And by its own apathy defeated. No more. Ireland will rise and topple these traitors These political tyrants, these tinpot dictators. These arrogant villains with the bare faced temerity To practice profit and preach austerity. Or are we willing to gift our children into debt slavery? And sell their birthright. Or do we have the heart and bravery To Rise? For their sake if not our own. And acknowledge this land does not belong to us alone. It is a passing gift, a conditional loan. The Land, The Air, The sea around it. That we must leave it better than we found it. That we must leave it better than we found it. It is here and now we write the story we will tell the generations to come. And we write it not with words but with action. This is no abstraction. For when all is said and done. It is they who will reap the harvest we sow today. The fastest growing economy in Europe; a celtic phoenix they say. How they do not choke upon those words I’ll never know. But economists see so much and yet so little, don’t they though. For this phantom phoenix of Irish prosperity Rises only on the backs of her children in poverty. This phantom phoenix surely only rises By cannibalising a health service in crisis. This phantom phoenix. Like our justice, blind. A success myopically defined. With all honour and praise to the bottom line. With one in four children left behind. That we will make our troika payments in full, and on time. A not so free state, out of sight, out of mind. No more. Ireland will rise and topple these traitors These political tyrants, these tinpot dictators. These arrogant villains with the bare faced temerity To practice profit and preach austerity. We hold the power, and this is the truth. It exists beyond the polling booth. We hold the power, and this is true. The only power they have they borrowed from you. Gifted in a ballot box filled with Xs black. On December the 10th we come to take it back. How far we’ve come in the last few weeks, Since we took to the streets, and the volumes it speaks When we do not go gentle into that good night. But instead stand up and fight for what’s right. We must not give up this close to the prize. This government must fall and Ireland will rise. Ireland will rise and our voices will be as thunder shaking the Dail. A million will march and our footsteps will echo and send them all Scurrying like rats to the liffey to hide, And be flushed out to sea on the rising tide. We have become uncomfortably numb To corruption in Ireland. Haughey’s expensive French shirts and his own private island. Brown envelopes for our oil, the duplicitous smile and, The knife in the back. The bankers who never reach trial and, The gardai who serve and protect in stormtrooper style and, A dark resignation to the state of our nation. And so for years we’ve played political musical chairs. We played our part and they played theirs. They smiled and lied. As if it never grieved them. And we for our part pretended we believed them. Like the Vatican, without a trace of panic, Boldy rearranging the paedophiles on the deck of the titanic. Too many of us played the game. When Fianna Fail fails We vote Fine Gael. When Fine Gael shafts us all We run crying back to Fianna Fail. And so it goes that every few years, ad nauseum We install new lions in coliseum, And smiling at our politicians rearranged We have the gall to wonder why nothing’s changed. Nothing has changed because we have not changed. And nothing will change until we change. We are doomed if we seek compassion in inhumanity. It is the very definition of insanity To repeat yourself with each time new results expecting, When it is tweedle dum or tweedle dee we are electing. No more. We are awakening. Ireland will rise and topple these traitors, These political tyrants, these tinpot dictators. These arrogant villains with the bare faced temerity To practice profit and preach austerity. Ireland will rise and our voices will be as thunder shaking the dail. A million will march and our footsteps will echo and send them all Scurrying like rats to the liffey to hide And flushed out to sea on the rising tide. But revolution is all for naught if we do not awaken. And take responsibility for our part in this partaken. The devil’s deal we struck To sleep and let the demons run amok. No more. In apathy we survive when we could thrive. If we do not engage others will steal the stage of our lives Like a metaphysical night of the long knives. The triumph of evil requires only the silence of good men and women in the face of this violence. Do not remain silent while others fight. Do not go gentle into that good night. It is time our intentions informed our actions. That we stand firm against the troika’s pound of flesh exactions. Look at how far we’ve come in the last few weeks, Since we took to the streets, and the volumes it speaks. They’ve u-turned so far they’re confusing a kiss with a kick As they beat us with carrots and feed us the stick. And they have succeeded only in reminding us, this ignorant, incompetent shower. That this land is ours, and we hold the power. We hold the power and this is the truth. It exists beyond the polling booth. We hold the power, and this is true. The only power they have they borrowed from you. Gifted in a ballot box filled with Xs black. And on December the 10th we will take it back. Peacefully, though we are to violence provoked Enda, consider your mandate to rule revoked. We are not willing to gift our children into debt slavery And sell their birthright. For we have the heart and bravery To Rise. For their sake if not our own. And acknowledge this land does not belong to us alone. It is a passing gift, a conditional loan The Land, The Air, The sea around it. That we must leave it better than we found it. That we must leave it better than we found it.
Posted on: Wed, 10 Dec 2014 19:05:58 +0000
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