Conor Lynam with a new poem.
To the Bigots
Starch your shirt and shine your shoes,
Today is the day when everything you stand for falls into place.
All the anger, hatred and venom you have masquerading itself as culture.
Attempt to trample on the indigenous as lambeg drums try to drown out your sectarian songs.
Orange sashes, stomping into areas to antagonize.
Flags of hate, a supposed union that is singing its swan song.
To pledge allegiance to a place where they mock you.
You truly are lost, geographically and politically.
The drinking from the night before is beginning to bite as you press on.
What a glorious night that was, it really exposed what you now walk for.
Effigies, flags and even children burned.
Not long to go now, you can cure your hangover soon but you cannot cure your hate.
You pass by the crowds that put down their cans of beer so they can applaud.
Some seem to be wobbling ever so slightly as the quickly retrieve their containers of aluminium refreshments as soon as you pass.
Almost there, just a few more unsteady steps.
For God and Ulster, for Queen and country?
No, it stands for hatred and bigotry, ignorance and intolerance, everything that should shame your very self.
You horrible hateful humans that are as unwanted in Ireland as you are in the place you pretend to claim loyalty to.
How very embarrassing that must feel.
Your pint arrives and you struggle to swallow it with shaky hand.
Enjoy, it no longer tastes of Irish tears.
We told you, again and again, we will never stop, never be beaten, never again will we let bigots dictate anything to us.
Get yourself another drink, you never know, it might soon be your last.
⏩ Conor Lynam is a campaigner with the IRPWA