Prehistoric Ireland By Mai Venn Poem by Mai Murphy Venn

Don't get sick in Ireland, where the shamrock grows,
For in the hospital's corridors there are trolleys in rows.
It takes hours to be seen and you could die in between
If you are seeking for the Minster of Health, Good luck
On the air, in the streets, maybe Dáil Éireann or gazing in a babbling brook
The man is missing and is nowhere to be found
On the air, in the streets, maybe in Dail Eireann or on the ground
The poor nurse's had to take to the streets and go on strike
Molly Malone gave up her wheelbarrow and followed by bike
Dan O'Connell came out of his grave and joined in
Good God said he, what's happening to the Irish people is a sin
Old Dev, his ghost did appear, he looked at the march and then shed a tear
If I was alive and leading the Dail Eireann, I would get rid that lot before next year
Oh Ireland my homeland said a voice out loud
It was the ghost of Parnell as he enter the crowd
What happen to Ireland, where did it go wrong?
Then the masses of people sang out in song
A nation once again. A nation once again.
Then
Power to the people and We shall not be moved
Just then a great voice was heard over the crowd saying
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Then the March continued its way