- IE OCL P29/3
- Part
- 11 August 1921
"The mills of God grind slowly
But they grind exceeding small
For England you can plainly see
The writing on the wall"
Malachy Lynam, Hut 31, Rath Internment Camp
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"The mills of God grind slowly
But they grind exceeding small
For England you can plainly see
The writing on the wall"
Malachy Lynam, Hut 31, Rath Internment Camp
Verse transcribed by 'M.B. C.' [Maggie B. Corcoran] , Harbour St, Tullamore.
Verse transcribed by Maggie B. Corcoran, with annotation 'broken-hearted'. at Harbour St, Tullamore, Offaly.
Verse transcribed by Walter A. Mitchell (Rahan, Offaly), Hut 3, Tintown No.2 Camp:
Just a greeting from a comrade
Who lies in chains with you
To show you that a gloomy past
Did not our souls subdue
May all the pleasures which this world
To freeman's life, doth give
Be yours in all your future days
When slaves no more shall live.'
Quote from a parody of Thomas Campbell's 'The Exile of Erin' transcribed by Liam Ó [Dulchaointigh], Tintown No 3 Camp, who ascribes this version to Rudyard Kipling:
'There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin
the dew on his thin robes was heavy and chill
Ere the dust from his brogues he fully had shaken
He was Member of Parliament introducing a Bill.
Popular verse transcribed by J.A.B., at Harbour Street, Tullamore.
Verse by Thomas Davis transcribed by Edmond Hourigan (Cork City), Tintown No. 3 Camp:
'We must not fail, we must not fail,
However fraud or force assail,
By Honour, Pride and policy
By Heaven, itself we must be free.'
Verse by Michael Keating, Dublin:
'When this you see
Remember me
sawing wood
All fates defying
Seriously trying
To escape if I could'
Verse transcribed by Vincent Burke, Hut 12, No 3 Tintown camp:
'What is life?
Ah who can say!
Clouds upon a summer day
Gone tomorrow, here today
Gift of heaven come to stay
Who can say?
What is death
Ah no-one knows!
Words that cease and eyes that close
Something sweeter that repose
Just away that each one goes
Where God knows!
What is Love?
Ah who can tell!
Sometimes heaven, sometimes hell
Neither wholly ill or well
All would buy, but who can sell?
Who can tell?
Verses transcribed Padraic Ó Briain, Rath Camp:
They lost! But O! They conquer
These men who their land would save
A firing party at break of day.
And a tasty quick-lime grave.
But think not of them with scorn
Nor mourn for the cause they died
This death saved Ireland's honour
What mattered all else beside.
We've been told twas a failure by those that ne'er understood
How the new born soul of Erin was baptised in martyrs' blood
And to all who crave for freedom, as the world its
meaning know, I give them this little story
The story of Glorious Easter Week.