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Bobby Sands Poems
The Rhythm Of Time
There's an inner thing in every man, Do you know this thing my friend? It has withstood the blows of a million years, And will do so to the end.
Stars of Freedom
The stars of freedom light the skies, Uncrowned queens of yesteryear, They were born 'mid shades of royal hue', From mystic wombs they did appear.
The Lonesome Boatman
In the middle of the sleeping lake The Lonesome boatman dwells, Around him rise the bracken hills The dreamy glens and dells.
For Barry’s soul we prayed in hell, Pathetic creatures adorned in pain, And we never heard his requiem bell, But our own — in torture’s livid strain.
Her tears fall in the darkness as the rain falls in the night, Silvery tears like silvery rain, hidden out of sight, The stars fall from her eyes like floating petals from the sky, Is there no one in all this world who hears this woman cry?
It is said we live in modern times, In the civilised year of 'seventy nine, But when I look around, all I see, Is modern torture, pain, and hypocrisy.
Back Home In Derry
In 1803 we sailed out to sea Out from the sweet town of Derry For Australia bound if we didn't all drown And the marks of our fetters we carried
The Sleeping Rose
Barry’s dead and Cork’s asleep, McSweeney’s cause been sold. And the blood still lies on Kerry’s roads, Unwashed by winds of old.
A Place To Rest
As the day crawls out another night crawls in Time neither moves nor dies. It’s the time of day when the lark sings, The black of night when the curlew cries.
In Glenravel's Glen there lives a man whom some would call a god For he could cure your shakes with a bottle of his stuff would cost you thirty bob Come winter, summer, frost all over, a jiggin' Spring on the breeze In the dead of night a man steps by, 'McIlhatton, if you please'
Comments about Bobby Sands
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Rhythm Of Time
There's an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil's strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leandened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from ...