The Ballad of Mary Ivors
Girl with those melancholy eyes
Captive now a hundred years or more
Glancing, challenging we who pass by
Gentle child, artless of a nations war
Moments of calm in your Sabbath clothes
yet no smile from a child of our land
Against your will an image chose
composed then by photographers hand
Mary Ivers a woman standing so still
Just a child under the gaze of all
Not yet revealing the face of steadfasts will
But awaiting battle scream and call
Then to shiver on Mountjoys floor
And from her cell, that wretched place
Her crimes of passion already sworn
She will not cower or hide her face
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