Ireland's Fight

The World is at war There is a powerful decree Anyone that fights for the Irish must take up arms or flee Whispers of the kills broadly paints the enemies wall Thy fellow neighbor that attempts to ignore the call; Shackled, beaten till nothing is left at all Follow the trail inlaid with clovers The path to freedom is fair Follow the stains of blood seeping in the ground And to the deepest Isle of the British you will revere Kings rose up from the ashes to shout ignorant demands Those that are too dimwitted follow: and the Noble refuse to stand The price for freedom stands at the gate The few brave enough to fight anguishly await their fate “For Ireland” They cry, falling to their knees to praise the Saint Swords clash as the enemy broadly rides in A flick of the sword and a flock of men Fighting for something they cannot win Bodies litter the ground, the pride frozen on the face of a fallen fight And in the deepest shadows a babe’s lone cry splits the night