Patriotism.

For many Easter is a time of remembrance, a time when the supreme sacrifices made by the men of 1916 are to be acknowledged and appreciated. Yet every year we have politicians laying wreaths at memorials and sites of patriotic significance the length and breadth of this country. This year it sticks in my throat more than usual, why do we tolerate such tokenism ? To have the corrupt engage in theatrics for the cameras. They spoil the wreath with their very own greasy palms, they pay lip service to long dead heroes and swiftly return to plans of self enrichment. They trample on the very people they vowed to serve. To want to stand on the shoulders of giants, is ambition, but to walk on the faces of the electorate to sneer at the commentators with an air of invincibility while they live beyond our means is way beyond disgraceful. Isn't it a bitter irony that through our hard work we pay the wages of the people who gamble and fritter away ours ?

While bursting with apparent national pride they read the proclamation, the words of the proclamation. They ring hollow now, for once they invoked a passion that put fire in the bellies of men, men who wanted to achieve, achieve for the good of the nation. Not just himself. Did all those men die in vain ? Will we see true patriots again ? The word is bandied about amid useless rhetoric. To part the curtains of patriotism and glimpse the avarice underneath is truly a depressing image. Luke Kelly's timeless poem captures the atmosphere of a nation in a far more eloquent manner than I could ever hope to achieve.

For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it fame?
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it fame?
For what flowed Irelands blood in rivers,
That began when Brian chased the Dane,
And did not cease nor has not ceased,
With the brave sons of ´16,
For what died the sons of Róisín, was it fame?

For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed?
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed?
Was it greed that drove Wolfe Tone to a paupers death in a cell of cold wet stone?
Will German, French or Dutch inscribe the epitaph of Emmet?
When we have sold enough of Ireland to be but strangers in it.
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed?

To whom do we owe our allegiance today?
To whom do we owe our allegiance today?
To those brave men who fought and died that Róisín live again with pride?
Her sons at home to work and sing,
Her youth to dance and make her valleys ring,
Or the faceless men who for Mark and Dollar,
Betray her to the highest bidder,
To whom do we owe our allegiance today?

For what suffer our patriots today?
For what suffer our patriots today?
They have a language problem, so they say,
How to write "No Trespass" must grieve their heart full sore,
We got rid of one strange language now we are faced with many, many more,
For what suffer our patriots today?


Far be it for me to instigate a call to arms, this is not a politically motivated post nor am I affiliated to any political party, I have far too much respect for my untarnished name. It's merely an observation, and I believe the more good people in this country that observe, the closer we will come to a viable solution. Should we march ? should we shout ? Ninety four years ago we had a rebellion.