AONAD 8

A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham, With their heads uncovered they knelt on the ground, For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish Soldier, His life for his Country about to lay down, He went to his death like a true son of Ireland, The firing party he bravely did face, Then the order rang out: "Present arms, fire," James Connolly fell into a ready made grave. The black flag they hoisted, the cruel deed was over, Gone was a man who loved Ireland so well, There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning, When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish Rebel. (Cliceáil anseo chun an t-amhrán a chloisteáil.)

● 33 bliana d’aois ● Beatrice Mitchell ● beirt pháistí óga ● Sherwood Forester ● Dún Laoghaire ● An Charraig Dhubh ● scliúchas ag an scoil

I do not grudge them; Lord I do not grudge My two strong sons that I have seen go out To break their strength and die, they and a few, In bloody protest for a glorious thing. They shall be spoken of among their people, The generations shall remember them, And call them blessed; But I will speak their names to my own heart In the long nights; The little names that were familiar once Round my dead hearth. Lord, thou art hard on mothers: We suffer in their coming and their going; And though I grudge them not, I weary, weary Of the long sorrow -- And yet I have my joy: My sons were faithful, and they fought.

GRACE As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Jail I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed? From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me. Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger They'll take me out at dawn and I will die With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye. Now I know it's hard for you my love to ever understand The love I shared for these brave men, the love for my dear land But when glory called me to his side down in the GPO I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go …Oh Grace.. Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose. Oh, Grace just hold … (Cliceáil anseo chun an t-amhrán a chloisteáil.)

Báibín nua agus a Daid imithe….

Daortha chun báis…

 rugadh é i Meiriceá, 1882  phós sé Sinéad, 1910  i Muileann Boland, 1916  daortha chun báis – scaoileadh saor  sa phríosún i Sasana, 1918  d’éalaigh le heochair, 1919  Uachtarán, 1959 go 1973  fuair bás i 1975, aois 92 … agus críoch an-sona

Bhí fís againn do Phoblacht na hÉireann agus bhí dóchas againn go n-éireodh linn. An Chuntaois Markievicz (an chéad bhean sa pharlaimint, bhásaigh i 1927) Táim ag fáil bháis ach mé ag súil go bhfuil Éire níos fearr anois ná mar a bhí Éire cheana. Mícheál Ó Mealláin (cuireadh chun báis é, Bealtaine 1916) Bhí na piléir ag titim mar a thiteann an bháisteach, ní raibh aon bhealach éalaithe againn. An Dochtúir Caitlín Lynn (thug sí airm go BÁC i 1914, bhásaigh i 1955) Chuidigh mé leis an gclog a thochras – éistfidh mé anois leis an gclog ag bualadh. An Rathailleach, (mharaigh piléar é ar 29 Aibreán 1916) An lá roimh Dhomhnach Cásca, agus clog an Aingil ag bualadh, tharraing mo chéile mé chuige féin agus dúirt sé go raibh na hÓglaigh chun tosú ag troid. Áine Ceannt, céile Éamoinn (cuireadh Éamonn chun báis, Bealtaine 1916)

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