The Sting of The Serpent Lay Not in The Apple Poem by Little Eagle McGowan

The sting of the serpent lay not in the apple
Nor in Eve's hunger or appetite
But in the fear of freedom to grapple
With darkness that blots out the light.

With nothing lacking in this Eden called Ireland
Have we sold it for emeralds and pearls.
A life, the Faith of our Fathers determined
In the best of all possible worlds.

For how long the wealthy's adventures…
Have had us resigned to our fate...
While the rest of us have had to venture
Far from home; just to see our hearts break.

Are we just prey to imaginations lustre
With a song and a dance, stock in trade
So stout of spirit, so easy to muster
The gift of the gab smooth as suede.

Millions exiled in sweet memory's tomb
Buried with the life in our roots
Our destiny must not be our children's doom
In a land that is our forbidden fruit.

Rise Ireland! ! For this is our Country
Lest our history tires to a sigh
We cannot merely laugh off our tyranny
In a revolution of sad goodbyes

Our heroes have shone across the seas
Our names on mankind's wall of fame...
On this Emerald Isle we must be free
Once more to be proud of Ireland's name.