The End

By Grace Donald, 2nd Year

Object No. 91 James Connolly's shirt, 1916
National Museum Decorative Arts & History

When he stood by the doorway

And kissed me goodbye

I felt in my heart

That he wasn’t alright

 

The look in his eyes

Showed sadness and fear

As though it was the last time

He’d ever be here

 

I’ll be back my dear

But this was a lie

This was the end

His last goodbye

 

He met with the brigade

So from there they went

To fight for freedom

And stand up like men

 

In battle he was wounded

And to the castle was taken

Before he was found

And brought to Kilmainham

 

As he stood by the Gaol

There was no fear on his face

He had fought for his country

He was no disgrace

 

It was there they shot him

And it was all over

No suffering in pain

The end of my lover

 

Now all I have left

To remember him by

Is his blood soaked shirt

And his deep blue eyes

 

That shirt tells a story

Of all the tears shed

Of battles won and lost

And of all our men dead

 

The wives that are widowed

The heartbroken mothers

They did Ireland proud

And fought for each other

 

Our men will be remembered

For their service given

And the blood shed

For Ireland’s freedom.

 

 

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