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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