Tuesday, November 11, 2008

To Our Veterans


Just a poem that, for some reason, reminded me of the many men who died fighting for our freedom's, specifically in the Second War for Independence.

Requiem for the Croppies by Seamus Heaney, 1967

The pockets of our great coats full of barley
No kitchens on the run, no striking camp,
We moved quick and sudden in our own country.
The priest lay behind ditches with the tramp.

A people, hardly marching, on the hike.
We found new tactics happening each day:
We'd cut through reins and rider with the pike
And stampede cattle into infantry,
Then retreat through hedges where cavalry must be thrown.

Until, on Vinegar Hill, the fatal conclave.

Terraced thousands died, shaking scythes at cannon.
The hillside blushed, soaked in our broken wave.
They buried us without shroud or coffin,
But in August the barley grew up from the grave.


2 comments:

Stephen Boyd said...

Great post Mike!

Is that the Clancy Brothers?

Mike said...

Thanks Stephen!

I can't tell if the other brothers are part of the band, it might just be Tommy Makem and Liam.

God Bless,
~Mike