They left nothing behind, answered every question.
Starved in cells and endured the best of British brutality.
The men in suits used them, promised them, and pushed them off a cliff.
The struggle never lies upon a man, a woman.
Like a clock, it keeps moving.
The appetite for freedom will never relent,
There are some that still fight.
A pointless endeavour, a folly, a fools game?
Maybe so,
Or maybe when the British think we are beaten they remind them that we cannot be conquered.
Remind them of streets where Irish were murdered,
Collusion with psychopaths.
Armed, license to kill and given medals.
There are things volunteers never forget.
To the screws that beat them, your hands might be red but your outcome is BLACK.
They fear the volunteers, it makes them spill their coffee, check under their car and wonder why they are here.
And when they sleep and darkness falls, the brave shine brightly.
May your dreams be nightmares, may you sleep with open eyes.
Some sold stories for suits, ties and bank balances that multiply like cancer.
Some never did, never will and remain unbroken.
Screws, steel, barbed wire and brutality will never stop the inevitable.
British boots will never be safe on Irish streets.
Starved in cells and endured the best of British brutality.
The men in suits used them, promised them, and pushed them off a cliff.
The struggle never lies upon a man, a woman.
Like a clock, it keeps moving.
The appetite for freedom will never relent,
There are some that still fight.
A pointless endeavour, a folly, a fools game?
Maybe so,
Or maybe when the British think we are beaten they remind them that we cannot be conquered.
Remind them of streets where Irish were murdered,
Collusion with psychopaths.
Armed, license to kill and given medals.
There are things volunteers never forget.
To the screws that beat them, your hands might be red but your outcome is BLACK.
They fear the volunteers, it makes them spill their coffee, check under their car and wonder why they are here.
And when they sleep and darkness falls, the brave shine brightly.
May your dreams be nightmares, may you sleep with open eyes.
Some sold stories for suits, ties and bank balances that multiply like cancer.
Some never did, never will and remain unbroken.
Screws, steel, barbed wire and brutality will never stop the inevitable.
British boots will never be safe on Irish streets.
⏩ Conor Lynam is a campaigner with the IRPWA
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