Irish souls in ancient days
Fought war with poesy’s might.
The voices of the souls did sing
They fought for their God blessed right.
The press was wrought with gross intent
To make a cautious song.
Yet the Irish rebels sung their verse
And had stole their right from wrong.
Guns were words and bullets rhyme
The streets laid the foundation of brick.
Freedom was our rebel’s song
And freedom we sought to fix.
The strong have stolen our meat from us
As we chewed upon the leg.
The warriors’ verse was the nations’ trust
The battle was word for bread.
B. K. Neifert 