I
Unsheathe yer blades, draws dark this day;
they’ve come, who yearn to slaughter.
Be bold, me lads, we’ll make them pay
and see them, their hereafter.
We’ll welcome them with fusillades,
oblige them their deservings.
If breach the hordes our barricades,
lay pale their brutal yearnings.
With grit and grunt, we’ll blood this field,
rain fierce on their distempers.
Be fearless lads, yer wrath revealed
when render forth yer tempers.
Let howl, let loose yer bolts upon,
to smite or feel the sabre.
Let gorge the crows on carrion
if death so be our labour.
II
’Tis lost, me lads, our best we gave,
tend failings our endeavour.
Yield not yer ranks but fall ye brave
or find ye chained forever.
On cruelty, they’ll ne renege,
such makings their adventure.
They’ll rid our kin to blight and plague,
to famine and indenture.
III
Of empires won, hail, ‘Victory!’
who’ll hail the vile invaders?
Who’d dare rejoice such savagery,
go reap yer bloodied acres.
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline) - Published: August 18th, 2025 04:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Teddy.15, Friendship, rebellion_in_sanity, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments9
Irish history pours out of this dark vessel. A time when the stronger hand ruled the land when kinship was relied upon for defense and lives depended upon ground to be tilled and for pasturing. This poem comes out of the historical shadows as a reminder. Very nicely worded it has the feel of another century. Loved it Tony
Love your Irish accent in this, worded as usual beautiful... 1847 was the year it all began ... 🌹
The poet speaks about a battle between soldiers and invading forces, portraying the emotional and physical toll of warfare. It highlights themes of bravery, loss, and the struggle against oppression, as well as the grim fate that awaits those who succumb to their enemies.
Frank confession- I have no expertise on the language. But it seemed you played with it with an elegance that demanded repeated readings. To me it was a ballad to remember.
Bringing Irish history out of the shadows, reminding people there have been many battles before, enjoyed the read
A wee bit parochial if one limits this to some old Irish conflict, when these transgressions everywhere ensured the sun neva set... etc for many moons...or something...
All together now... 'Rule Britannia...'
Caught the spirit of that time in spirited verse, Tony.
I love this work.Masterly written.I am taken to the civil war or any uprising really.Either way it is a powerful call to arms.A touch of reality at the end where to the victors go the spoils.Very enjoyable read amigo
To me this poem unfolds as a defiant stand that shifts into lament, with its title framing a journey from bold resistance to the stark cost of defeat. In vivid, martial language, the early verses rally comrades against imperial aggression, but the tone darkens as loss becomes inevitable and the invaders’ cruelty is laid bare. By the final section, the poem questions the meaning of “victory” when its legacy is blood, ruin, and moral corruption, its ballad‑like cadence and seafaring diction rooting the scene in a timeless tradition of resistance and remembrance.
Tony, my dear friend, this thunders with the cadence of old war verse…raw defiance carrying through to that bitter reckoning at the end. It is a rallying cry and a lament all at once. Strongly done, my friend. Love and fave it. And boy do we need to face empire. The title and the poem are spot on! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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