Rabble In May Poem by Paddy Glackin

There's the Fir Trees on my left.
It wasn't there when you walked as a thirteen year old boy, with boots slung around your neck.
Barefoot from the labourers cottage near Drumquin.

Fifteen mile to Strabane on 12 May 1931.
Your mother walked by your side, a spring day.
To stand in a line of white slaves.
Bullish farmers, eyed your contours, looking for strong backs.

Can you plough? Can you work with horses.
Good job you were tall and strong (for e thirteen year old)
The deal done, ten bob for six months.
Half now, half at the end of your indenture

Up you went to the Rabstown farm, to sleep in a barn. Fed with spuds
From dawn to dusk you worked.
And your mam walked home with Five bob.