BY J.D. COSTELLO, BELCLARE, TUAM

SOURCE: THE CONNACHT TRIBUNE 1909

In a pretty spot on Galway I would always like to be

Where the boys are patriotic and the colleens full of glee

The hallmark of freedom is on its walls engraved

Though sine Strongbow came to Ireland our country is enslaved

It is noted the world over for its brave and fearless sons

Who, till the fight was nobly fought surrendered not their guns

The grabbers and the graziers from its precincts had to fly

To lands unknown, far far away from ancient Athenry

I’m afraid I am unable to do justice in this rhyme

To men who will leave footprints on the pebbly sands of time

Whose names will shine in history for ages to live on

When generations yet unborn, to eternity have gone

When before investigation their great deeds are arrayed

The manoeuvres of Bill Cody are completely in the shade

The transport horse from Holland’s yard and the Crown from the barracks nigh

Disappeared at the hands of those brave boys from Athenry

Bart Kennedy, the journalist was sent over by John Bull

To paint bloody pen pictures the English folk to gull

His peculiar “full stop” sentences in the Metropolitan Press

Were not meant to alleviate the sufferings and distress

Legions of policemen and tees from Scotland Yard

Were dumped into thy little town thy freedom to retard

But Sinn Feiner and Land Leaguer did with the other vie

To strike despotic tyrants down in historic Athenry

Thy crumbling arches plainly speak of better days gone by

When gallant Sarsfield and St. Ruth made ignoble Ginckle fly

To Aughrim’s plains where St. Ruth was beheaded, we are told

‘Ere he could to Patrick Sarsfield all his strategy unfold

And ever since thy worthy sons have struggled but in vain

Once more they independence and freedom to regain

I have seen the spot where others fell without a groan or sigh

Shot through the heart, a few miles from historic Athenry

The dawn of partial freedom is breaking clear at last

And dual ownership of land is disappearing fast

Now boundless prairies are dotted o’er with many a happy home

Where graziers bullocks heretofore were wont to browse and roam

And Athenry’s faithful boys did Johnny Bull offend

By initiating every plan to accomplish this great end

When I’ve shuffled off this mortal coil and the blood in my veins is dry

Place me to rest among the dead in historic Athenry