Ireland? Poem by C M Rice

From a land of saints and scholars
Comes a band of docile followers
They neither care nor look at things,
Not past their own blank selfish grins,

No respect or will to fight for rights,
No! Second car they have set in sights,
And who am I to prod and poke?
I, too, am part of this unfunny joke,

I know – that’s why I write this now,
I’m trying to find a way how?
To get this island back to when,
A land of hope and marvel of pen.