The Stone Breaker's Yard, May 3rd 1916 Poem by John F. McCullagh

"It is time, " the Priest said.I nodded, being well prepared.
My last confession had been heard, as well as my unanswered prayers.
Tom Clarke and Tom Mac Donagh would, shortly, join me in the yard,
where a line of British Soldiers would dispatch us off to God.

The light, grey and uncertain, the air was cold and raw.
A plain grey concrete wall would be the last thing that I saw.
My hands secured behind my back; a blindfold on my eyes.
A sacrifice both right and proper; for Ireland, I will die.

I'd dreamt of an Ireland brave and free. To that, I did aspire.
I hear the bolts of their enfields click and their captain shouted "FIRE